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ULYSSES 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

POEMS. 

PAOLO  AND  FRANCESCA. 

HEROD. 


ULYSSES 

A    DRAMA    IN    A    PRO- 
LOGUE &  THREE  ACTS 


BY 
STEPHEN    PHILLIPS 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1906 

All  rifktt  r ti erred 


COPYRIGHT,  1902, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  February,  1902.     Reprinted  March, 
October,  1902;  October,  1903;  September,  1904;  January,  1906. 


Tforfoooli 
J.  8.  Cuihing  *  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  MMI  U.S.A. 


iabrary 

PR. 

577-2- 


TO 

JAMES     KNOWLES 

WITH   GRATITUDE  AND    REGARD 

I    DEDICATE 
THIS     PLAY 


1265033 


CHARACTERS 

ON   OLYMPUS 

ZKUS  (Jupiter),  with  thunderbolt 

POSEIDON  (Neptune),  with  trident. 

HERMES  (Mercury),  with  caduceus  and  winged  sandals. 

ATHENE  (Minerva),  with  spear,  shield,  and  aegis. 

APHRODITE  (Venus),  with  roses  and  doves. 

ARES  (Mars),  with  spear  and  shield;  APOLLO,  with 
lyre;  HEPHAESTUS  (  Vulcan),  with  hammer  and  pin- 
cers; DEMETER  (Ceres),  with  cornsheaf,  wreath,  and 
veil;  HESTIA  (I'esla),  with  veil  and  sceptre;  ARTE- 
MIS (Diana),  with  bow  and  quiver;  GANYMEDE, 
cupbearer  to  the  gods. 

ON  EARTH 

ATHENE. 
HERMES. 
CALYPSO,  the  Nymph  of  the  Island  Ogygia. 

ULYSSES. 

PENELOPE,  his  wife. 
TELEMACHUS,  his  son. 
EURYCLEIA,  his  old  nurse. 

ANTINOUS  (young,  insolent,  splendid')       1 

N     Chief  Suitors  to 
EURYMACHUS  (mature,  politic,  specious)  V 

PEN  ELOPE. 
CTESIPPUS  (elderly,  rich,  ridiculous) 

EUM>EUS,  a  swineherd. 

7 


8  CHARACTERS 

MELANTHIUS,  a  goatherd. 
PEIR^US,  a  steward. 
PHEIDON,  a  gardener. 
MELANTHO  \ 

CLYTIE          v  handmaidens. 
CHLORIS       J 

ELPENOR    )       ., 

>   sailors. 
PHOCION    } 

SUITORS,  HANDMAIDENS,  ATTENDANTS,  SEA-NYMPHS, 
SAILORS,  ETC. 

IN   HADES 
ULYSSES. 
HERMES. 

GHOSTS  OF  PHAEDRA,  EURYDICE,  SUICIDES,  LOVERS,  AND 

CHILDREN. 
CHARON. 

GHOST  OF  TEIRESIAS  (a  prophet). 
GHOST  OF  AGAMEMNON. 
GHOST  OF  ANTICLEIA  (the  mother  of  Ulysses). 

FURIES,  TANTALUS,  SISYPHUS,  PROMETHEUS. 


PROLOGUE 


ULYSSES 

PROLOGUE 

The  curtain  rising  discloses  the  summit  of  Olym- 
pus, an  amphitheatre  of  marble  hills  in  a 
glimmering  light  of  dawn :  where  the  hills 
fall  away,  a  distant  view  of  the  world,  with 
countries  and  rivers,  is  seen  far  below.  Near 
the  front  are  the  seats  of  the  gods,  cut  in  an 
irregular  semicircle  in  the  rock.  As  the  scene  pro- 
gresses the  morning  light  grows  clearer,  descend- 
ing gradually  from  the  mountain  summit  over 
the  figures  of  the  assembled  gods.  In  the  centre, 
ZEUS,  with  the  empty  seat  of  HERA  beside  him; 

to  his  right  ATHENE,  APOLLO,  ARTEMIS,  HERMES, 
ii 


12  ULYSSES 

and  HESTIA;    to   his  left  POSEIDON,  DEMETER, 
ARES,  APHRODITE,  and  HEPHAESTUS. 

ATHENE.  [Comes  forward  with  outstretched 
arms.~\  Father,  whose  oath  in  hollow  hell 
is  heard  ; 

Whose  act  is  lightning  after  thunder-word; 
A  boon !   a  boon  !   that  I  compassion  find 
For  one,  the  most  unhappy  of  mankind. 
ZEUS.   How  is  he  named? 
ATH.  Ulysses. 

[POSEIDON  starts  forward,   but  is  checked 

by  ZEUS. 

He  who  planned 

To  take  the  towered  city  of  Troy-land ; 
A  mighty  spearsman,  and  a  seaman  wise, 
A  hunter,  and  at  need  a  lord  of  lies. 
With  woven  wiles  he  stole  the  Trojan  town 
Which  ten  years  battle  could  not  batter  down : 


ULYSSES  13 

Oft  hath  he  made  sweet  sacrifice  to  thee. 

ZEUS.   \_Nodding  benevolently.]     I  mind   me  of 
the  savoury  smell 

ATH.  Yet  he, 

When  all  the  other  captains  had  won  home, 
Was  whirled  about  the  wilderness  of  foam; 
For   the   wind    and   the  wave   have  driven  him 

evermore 

Mocked  by  the  green  of  some  receding  shore ; 
Yet  over  wind  and  wave  he  had  his  will, 
Blistered  and  buffeted,  unbaffled  still. 
Ever  the  snare  was  set,  ever  in  vain; 
The  Lotus  Island  and  the  Siren  strain; 
Through  Scylla  and  Charybdis  hath  he  run, 
Sleeplessly  plunging  to  the  setting  sun. 
Who  hath  so  suffered,  or  so  far  hath  sailed, 
So  much  encountered,  and  so  little  quailed  ? 

ZEUS.   What  wouldst  thou  ? 


14  UL  YSSES 

ATH.  This !   that  he  at  last  may  view 

The  smoke  of  his  own  fire  upcurling  blue. 

POSEIDON.  [Starting  forward  with  menacing 
gesture.']  Father  of  Gods,  this  man  hath 
stricken  blind 

My  dear  son  Polyphemus,  and  with  wind, 
With  tempest  and  a  roaring  wall  of  waves, 
I  fling  him  backward  from  the  shore  he  craves. 
Sire  !  if  this  insolence  unpunished  go 
We  soon  shall  lack  all  reverence  below; 
It  will  be  said,  'The  arm  of  Zeus  doth  shake, 
Let  none  henceforward  at  his  thunder  quake  ! ' 

[ZEUS  moves  uneasily. 
This  man  is  mine !      [Strikes  trident  on  ground.~\ 

By  me  let  him  be  hurled 

From  sea  to  sea,  and  dashed  about  the  world  ! 
ATH.    Hath   not  Ulysses   through  such   travail 
trod 


ULYSSES  15 

As  might  appease  even  anger  of  a  god  ? 
Monarch  of  monstrous  rage  — 

[  With  furious  gesture  at  POSF.IDON. 
Thou  who  dost  launch 
The  crested  seas  in  streaming  avalanche  ! 
Ix>rd  of  the  indiscriminate  earthquake  throe, 
Of  huge  and  random  elemental  blow, 
Thou  who  dost  drink  up  ships,  and  swallow  down 
Alike  the  pious  and  the  impious  town, 
Whose  causeless  fury  maketh  men  mistrust 
If  there  be  gods,  or  if  those  gods  be  just; 
Thy  rancour  is  eternal  as  thy  life, 
Thy  genius  ruin,  and  thy  being  strife  ! 

Pos.    [Tauntingly.']      And    thou,    demure    de- 
fender of  chaste  lives, 
Smooth  patroness  of  virgins  and  of  wives, 
I'll  pluck  from  thee  the  veil  thy  craft  doth  wear, 
The  secret  burning  of  thy  heart  declare. 


16  ULYSSES 

Thy  marble  front  of  maidenhood  conceals 
Such  wandering  passion  as  a  wanton  feels. 
What  is  thy  heavenly  sympathy  but  this, 
To  find  occasion  for  Ulysses'  kiss? 
I  will  proclaim  thee  to  Olympus  — 

[POSEIDON  and  ATHENE  start  forward,  threat- 
ening each  other  with  trident  and  lance. 

ZEUS.  Peace, 

Children,  and  from  your  shrill  reviling  cease  ! 
Do  thou,  Poseidon,  for  thy  part,  revere 
The  dower  of  her  divinity  severe  : 
And,  daughter,  gird  not  at  his  gloomier  might, 
His  spoil  of  morning  wrecks  from  furious  night. 
Endowed  is  he  with  violence  by  that  law 
Which  gives  thee  wisdom  —  and  thy  father  awe. 

ATH.  Of  reverence  speak'st  thou?    Then  Ulys- 
ses urge 
Back  to  his  home  irreverence  to  scourge; 


ULYSSES  17 

There  weeps  his  wife   Penelope,  hard  driven 
By  men  who  spurn  at  law  and  laugh  at  heaven. 
A  swarm  of  impious  wooers  waste  his  halls, 
Devour  his  substance  and  corrupt  his  thralls : 
They  cry  about  her  that  her  lord  is  dead, 
They  bay  around  her  for  the  marriage  bed  — 

ZEUS.  [Solemnly.]  Ulysses  shall  return  ! 

Pos.  [Starting  forward.]  Cloud- 

gatherer,  stay ! 

ZEUS.   Yet   canst   thou   work   him   mischief  on 

the  way. 

In  thy  moist  province  none  can  interfere ; 
There  thou  alone  art  lord,  as  I  am  here. 
Where  bides  the  man? 

ATH.  Calypso  this   long  while 

Detains  him  in  her  languorous  ocean-isle, 
Ogygia,  green  on  the  transparent  deep. 

There  did  she  hush  his  spirit  into  sleep, 
B 


18  UL  YSSES 

And  all  his  wisdom  swoons  beneath  the  charm 
Of  her  deep  bosom  and  her  glimmering  arm. 
Release  him,  sire,  from  soft  Calypso's  wile, 
And  dreamy  bondage  on  the  Witching  Isle. 

ZEUS.  [Oracularly. .]  Go,  Hermes,  and  unweave 

her  magic  art. 

Then  let  him  choose ;  to  linger,  or  depart. 
Yet  ere  he  touch  at  last  his  native  shore 
Ulysses  must  abide  one  labour  more. 

ATHENE.   Say  !  say  ! 

ZEUS.  The  shadowy  region  must 

he  tread, 

And  breathing  pace,  amid  the  breathless  dead, 
The  track  of  terror  and  the  slope  of  gloom, 
To  learn  from  ghosts  the  tidings  of  his  doom. 

ATH.  O  spare  him,  Father,  spare  him  — 

ZEUS.  He  must  go 

From  dalliance  to  the  dolorous  realm  below. 


ULYSSES  19 

ATM.  Remember,   sire,   she   snared   with   spells 

his  will, 
But  his  deep  heart  for  home  is  hungering  still. 

HERMES.  [Mischievously,  pointing  at  APOLLO.] 
And,  sire,  remember,  we  are  gods,  yet  we 
From  human  frailties  were  not  ever  free. 
If  even  immortals  genially  stray, 
Shall  we  be  merciless  to  mortal  clay? 
But  lately  the  sun-god  himself  was  seen 
Snatching  at  Daphne's  robe  upon  the  green. 
APHRODITE.  [With  soft  insinuation. .]  And  even 

thou,  O  Father  —  in  thy  youth  — 
Didst  feel,  at  least  for  mortal  women,  ruth. 
To  Leda,  Leto,  Danae,  we  are  told, 
Didst  show  thee  on  occasion  tender  — 

[ZEUS  thunders  softly.  General  suppressed 
laughter  among  the  gods.  ZEUS  thunders 
loudly :  all  the  gods  abase  thentseh'es. 


20  ULYSSES 

ZEUS.  Hold ! 

Tis  true  that  earthly  women  had  their  share 
In  this  large  bosom's  universal  care, 
That  Danae,  Leda,  Leto,  all  had  place 
In  my  most  broad  beneficent  embrace: 
True  that  we  gods  who  on  Olympus  dwell 
With  mortal  passion  sympathise  too  well. 

[Sighs  deeply. 

But,  daughter,  'tis  not  I  that  do  impose 
Upon  Ulysses  this  the  last  of  woes. 
I  to  no  higher  wisdom  make  pretence 
Than  to  expound  eternal  sapience. 
It  is  that  power  which  rules  us  as  with  rods, 
Lord  above  lords  and  god  behind  the  gods; 
Fate  hath  decreed  Ulysses  should  abide 
More  toils  and  fiercer  than  all  men  beside : 
Heavily  homeward  must  he  win  his  way 
Through  lure,  through  darkness,  anguish,  and  delay. 


UL  YSSES  ai 

ATM.   Yet  swear  he  shall  return ! 
ZEUS.  If  he  can  dare 

Through  shadow  of  the  grave  to  reach  the  air. 
ATH.  Then  swear  it  by  the  Styx ! 
ZEUS.  I  swear  it. 

[Rolling  thunder  is  heard  beneath. 
HERM.  Hark ! 

Tis  ratified  by  rivers  of  the  dark ! 

ATH.   I'll  to  Telemachus  his  son,  and  fire 
His  heart  to  prove  him  worthy  of  his  sire. 
{To   HERMES.]     Thou   to    Ogygia   in    the   violet 

sea, 
To  touch  Ulysses  and  to  set  him  free. 

[Exit  ATHENE. 

Pos.   And  I,  Ulysses,  will  thy  bark  waylay  ! 
And  though  thou  must  return,  thou  shall  not  say 
Thou  wast  afflicted  lightly  on  the  way. 

[Exit  POSEIDON. 


22  UL  YSSES 

ZEUS.     {To  HERMES.]     Hermes,  command  Ca- 
lypso to  release 

Ulysses,  and  to  waft  him  over  seas ; 
Yet  she  shall  not  forewarn  him  that  his  fate 
Permits  him  homeward  but  through  Hades'  gate. 

\_Exit  HERMES. 
]_To   GANYMEDE.]    The    cup,    bright    Ganymede ! 

Ah,  from  the  first 
The  guiding  of  this  globe  engendered  thirst. 

[ZEUS  drinks :   OLYMPUS  fade s. 


ACT   I 


ACT  I 

SCENE  I 

Forecourt  of  the  palace  of  ULYSSES  at  Ithaca, 
with  stone  seats  disposed  around  it.  Towards 
one  side,  the  front  of  the  palace,  with  portico 
and  pediment  richly  decorated  in  the  Mycenaan 
style.  Separated  from  this,  a  building  contain- 
ing the  women's  apartments,  from  a  gallery 
in  which  a  flight  of  stairs  leads  down  into  the 
court.  A  boundary  wall  encloses  both  build- 
ings :  in  the  interval  between  them,  the  moun- 
tains of  Ithaca  are  seen  above  the  wall.  To 
the  right  a  low  colonnade,  over  which  appear 

the   trees   of  the   orchard — apples,  pears,  figs, 
25 


26  UL  YSSES 

etc.,  with  a  great  vine  trailing  into  the  court. 
In  the  court,  a  scene  of  wild  laughter,  uproar, 
and  prodigal  confusion :  some  of  the  SUITORS 
dancing  in  abandonment  with  the  HANDMAIDENS, 
while  others  pour  out  of  the  central  door  of 
the  palace  to  join  the  rout.  TELEMACHUS  is 
seen  sitting  moodily  apart.  At  last  the  dance 
ends  in  breathless  disorder. 

ANTINOUS.  Come,  Clytie,  I  have  no  breath  left, 
sit  on  my  knee  and  drink  from  this  cup  !  No  ! 
I'll  have  fresh  wine.  \_Pours  it  on  floor^\  A 
fresh  jar. 

CTESIPPUS.  Now  may  the  Lady  Penelope  defer 
her  answer  so  long  as  she  pleases.  This  way  of 
life  suits  me.  [A  HANDMAID  empties  cup  of  wine 
over  him.~]  Fetch  up  fresh  jars  from  the  cool 
earth  ! 


ULYSSES  27 

MELANTHO.  [Entering  from  door  in  wall  to 
left  of  house,  and  holding  up  keyJ]  I  have 
the  keys  of  the  great  wine  vault. 

PEIILEUS.   Ah  !  you  have  stolen  my  keys  !    How 

shall  I  meet  Ulysses ! 

[Everyone  laughs. 

MEL.   Come  with  me,  some  of  you,  and  bring 

up  fresh  jars. 

[Exit  MELANTHO  with  three  SUITORS. 

Enter  three  HANDMAIDS,  loaded  with  flmuers 
and  branches  of  fruit  —  figs,  apples, 
pears,  grapes,  pomegranates,  followed  by 
PHEIDON. 

CHLORIS.     See !    see !    we    have    stripped    the 
great  orchard.      Here  !    here  ! 

[They   fling  fruits    and    flowers    over 
SUITORS. 


28  ULYSSES 

PHEIDON.  Princes,  princes !  Years  and 
years  have  I  tended  these  plants  and  trees, 
and  in  a  moment  they  are  torn  up,  and  all  the 
fruitage  of  the  summer  squandered.  Ah !  if  my 
master  should  return ! 

CTES.  That  need  not  trouble  you. 

\_All  laugh. 

[A   wild  scene   of  flinging  fruits    and   red, 
white  and  purple  flowers   ensues. 

Re-enter    MELANTHO    and    SUITORS,    rolling 
fresh  jars  of  wine. 

ANTIN.  Break  off  the  necks,  and  let  the  wine 
run  on  the  floors  —  I'll  cool  my  feet ;  and  drench 
this  wreath  again !  Ulysses  is  dead,  or  if  he 
live,  we  are  masters  here  to-day. 

[Jars  are  broken,  wine  flows  on  floor. 

ALL.   Ha!  Ha!  Ha! 


UL  YSSES  29 

Enter  EURYCLEIA,  the  old  nurse,  followed  by 
two  faithful  HANDMAIDS  bearing  work- 
baskets,  etc. 

EURYCL.  O,  you  vile  handmaidens !  that  sit 
on  princes'  knees  and  drink  the  wine  of  your 
master  who  was  ever  kind  to  you. 

GIRLS.    La  !  la  !  la  !  la  !  la  ! 

EURYCL.  Oh !  may  you  never  come  to  a 
husband's  bed  !  but  wither  unwooed  to  the  grave  ! 

ANTIN.  The  old  dame  is  envious !  Here, 
Ctesippus,  you  still  lack  a  damsel.  Take  her 
and  comfort  her  !  Kiss  her,  kiss  her,  Ctesippus  ! 

EURYCL.    Wiser  to  let  her  be  ! 

\They  drag  CTESIPPUS  to  EURYCLEIA  and 
push  him  towards  her. 

CTES.  Her  time  is  past  —  young  lips  for  a  man 
of  my  spirit. 


30  ULYSSES 

MEL.     Men  reach  not  for  withered  apples  ! 

CLYT.   Parchment  face  ! 

MEL.   You  skin  hung  in  the  wind  to  dry ! 

ALL.    Ha!  ha!  ha! 

EURYCL.   O  !   when  Ulysses  shall  return  — 

ALL.   Ha!  ha!  ha! 

EURYCL.    For  return  he  shall  — 

ALL.    Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 

EURYCL.  O !  then  may  he  not  spare  you, 
women  though  ye  are,  but  strike  you  down  with 
the  men  —  fools  !  wantons  !  thieves  ! 

MEL.  \To  faithful  HANDMAIDS.]  Why  slave 
under  that  bitter  hag  when  you  can  have  the 
kisses  and  the  gold  of  princes? 

ANTIN.  What  would  he  do  —  one  man 
amongst  us  all? 

EURYCL.      Kill     you !      kill     you !      kill     you ! 

Ulysses  !     Ulysses  ! 

[She  is  hustled  off. 


UL  YSSES  31 

Enter  other   SUITORS    dragging  in    EUM*US, 
the  swineherd. 

SUITOR.  Here  is  the  man  who  sends  us  the 
lean  swine. 

ANTIN.   Bring  him  before  me  ! 

EUM.  Princes,  I  am  but  a  serving-man  and 
have  respect  unto  my  lords.  Shall  I  serve  up 
a  dish  that  would  poison  the  great  princes? 

ANTIN.   Poison  us? 

CTES.    [Turning pale. ~\    What  does  he  say? 

EUM.  My  lords,  a  fever  is  fallen  upon  the 
swine  !  To  eat  them  were  death. 

CTES.  Ah  !  ah  ! 

A  SUITOR.  What,  what,  Ctesippus  ! 

CTES.     Ah !     the    pain !     the     pain !     I    am 

P°isoned!  \_AUlaugh. 

Do  I  swell?  do  I  swell  already? 


32  UL  YSSES 

SUITORS.  [With  mock  solemnity^  Farewell, 
farewell,  Ctesippus,  thy  death  is  on  thee  ! 

CTES.    Help  me  within  doors  !     Ah  !  ah  ! 

[Exit   CTESIPPUS,    supported  by   HAND- 
MAIDENS. 

ANTIN.   [To  EUM/EUS.]    This  is  a  lie  ! 

EUM.  There  are  but  two  left  of  the  whole 
herd,  and  already  I  like  not  the  countenance  of 
one  of  them  ! 

ANTIN.   It  is  a  lie  to  keep  us  from  our  food ! 

MELANTHIUS.  [  Obsequiously^  Believe  him  not, 
most  noble  Antinous  !  But  I,  it  is  my  pleasure  to 
bring  you  what  I  have ;  fat  kids ;  sweet  morsels 
for  my  noble  lords.  He  hath  hidden  the  swine 
away,  most  mighty  Antinous. 

ANTIN.  Go,  drag  him  out,  and  drive  in  the 
swine. 

SUITORS.   Come,  come :  show  us  the  swine  1 


ULYSSES  33 

EUM.   And  so  I  will.      [Aside.]     But   not   the 

fat  ones.  \_Exeunt  EUKLEUS  and  SUITORS. 

ANTIN.    [To  SERVANTS  within.~\     A  fresh  feast, 

and  swiftly ! 

[70  SUITORS  and  HANDMAIDS.] 
Meantime  a  brief  sleep,  for  the  sun  bears  heavily 
on  us.     Come,  Clytie,  my  head  on  your  lap. 
A  SUITOR.   And  you  with  me,  Melantho. 

[The  SUITORS  lie  down   in   various  attitudes 
with  the  HANDMAIDENS. 

Re-enter  CTESIPPUS,  who  starts  in  horror. 

CTES.   Ah  !  they  are  dead  already. 
ANTIN.   Cease,  old  fool,  and  sleep  awhile. 

[CTESIPPUS  lies  down. 

ATHENE  appears,  and  stands  by  TELEMACHUS. 

ATHENE.   What  man  art  thou? 
c 


34  UL  YSSES 

TELEM.  O  goddess  bright ! 

ATH.  Be  still; 

Where  is  Ulysses'  son? 

TELEM.  I  am  he. 

ATH.  Thou  he  ! 

Where  is  Ulysses'  son?     Gone  on  a  journey? 
Or  dead,  that  this  is  suffered  in  his  halls? 

TELEM.   Nay,  goddess ;  I  am  he  !     [Buries  his 
face  in  his  hands.~\ 

ATH.  Art  thou  his  son? 

Art  thou  the  child  of  the  swift  and  terrible  one? 
Could  he  who  shattered  Troy  beget  thee  too? 
What  dost  thou  here,  thy  head  upon  thy  hands, 
While  all  the  floor  runs  with  thy  father's  wine, 
And  drunken  day  reels  into  lustful  night? 
What  more  must  these  men  do  to  make  thee  wroth  ? 
How  scratch,  how  bite,  how  wound  thee  to  find 
blood? 


ULYSSES  35 

O,  should  Ulysses  come  again,  how  long, 

How    long   should    strangers   glut    themselves   at 

ease? 

Why,  he  would  send  a  cry  along  the  halls 
That   with     the     roaring    all     the     walls     would 

rock, 

And  the  roof  bleed,  anticipating  blood, 
With  a  hurrying  of  many  ghosts  to  hell 
When   he   leapt    amid    them,   when    he    flashed, 

when  he  cried, 
When  he   flew  on   them,   when   he   struck,  when 

he  stamped  them  dead  ! 
Up  !  up  !  here  is  thy  Troy,  thy  Helen  here  ! 
TELEM.   Goddess,  I  am  but  one  and  they  are 

many. 

ATM.   Thou  art  innumerable  as  thy  wrongs. 
Hist !  how  they  sleep  already  like  the  dead  ! 

[ATHENE  disappears. 


36  ULYSSES 

TELEM.   How  would  my  father  find  me  should 

he  come  ! 

Weak,  weak  !    How  have  I  raged  and  fumed  in  vain, 
And  pondered  on  the  doing !     Now  to  do  ! 

[He  starts  up. 

[During  the  ensuing  speech    of  TELEMACHUS, 
the  SUITORS  gradually   awake   and  rise, 
some  stretching  themselves  and  yawning. 
Antinous  and  Eurymachus,  and  the  rest ! 
Too  long  have  I  borne  to  see  you  snatch  and  spoil, 
And  eat  and  swill,  and  gibe  and  ravish.     Now, 
Now  from  this  moment  I'll  stand  master  here ; 
Lord  of  my  own  hall,  ruler  of  this  hearth. 
I'll  flit  no  more  a  phantom  at  your  feasts, 
Discouraged  and  discarded  and  disdained. 
I  am  the  son  of  him  whom  all  men  feared, 
And  if  he  live  I  hold  his  place  in  trust ; 
If  he  be  dead  I  stand  up  in  his  room. 


UL  YSSES  37 

Now  on  the  instant,  out !  out  at  the  doors ! 

[ANTINOUS  yawns  loudly. 

CTES.  Are  we  awake,  or  do  we  all  still  dream? 
TELEM.  Take  wing,  you  vultures  that  too  long 

have  perched  ! 
Hence,  hence,  you  rats   that   gnaw  my  father's 

grain. 

EURYM.  I  rub  my  eyes:  is  this  Telemachus? 
TELEM.    I'll   have   no   tarrying!      Out,  out  ere 

ye  wake ! 

The  spirit  of  my  sire  descends  on  me, 
And  'tis  Ulysses  that  cries  out  on  you; 
You  by  the  throat,  Antinous,  I  take. 

[ffe  makes  towards  ANTINOUS,  who  still  holds 
CLYTIE    in   his  arms,   while  she  laughs 
impudently  at  TELEMACHUS. 
ANTIN.  Softly,  sir,  softly  1     Clytie,  do  not  laugh, 
This  is  your  lord  ! 


38  ULYSSES 

CTES.  I  like  to  see  such  mettle ! 

EURYM.  Be  not  too  rough  with  him,  Antinous  ! 
ANTIN.  A  moment,    sir,    before    you    cast    us 
out  — 
[He  laughs,  as  do  the  others  till  he  recovers 

himself. 

Before  you  cast  us  out — as  easily 
Doubtless  you  could ! 
A  SUITOR.  We  are  helpless  and  o'er- 

matched  ! 

EURYM.  Sad  Ithaca,  when  such  a  tyrant  rules  ! 
CTES.  Reach  down  thy  father's  bow  and  shoot 

us  dead  ! 

TELEM.   \To   himself,   while    EURYMACHUS    and 
other  SUITORS  at  back  are  consulting  in  whis- 
pers how  to  deal  with  him^\ 
Fool,  fool !  I  have  but  made  myself  a  jest : 
It  was  not  thus  Athene  meant.     Fool,  fool ! 


ULYSSES  39 

EURYM.  [  Coming  forward  to  TELEMACHUS  from 
others  at  back.']  One  word  !  You  say  that 
we  devour  your  halls, 

That  we  are  vultures,  rats.    Yet  answer  this, 
Do  we  bide  here,  then,  of  our  own  inclining? 
We  come  to  woo  your  mother  —  are  your  guests, 
And  we  would  have  an  answer  ere  we  go  ! 

ALL.  An  answer,  yes  ! 

ANTIN.  [Starting  up.~\  An  answer  from  her  lips, 
Which  one  of  us  she  chooses  for  a  husband. 
Have  we  not  seen  moon  kindle  after  moon 
And  still  she  puts  us  by  !     How  long,  how  long  ! 

TELEM.  Eurymachus,   I   have   blustered   windy 

threats ; 

But  'tis  a  grievous  office  thus  to  sit 
A  master  and  no  master  in  my  halls : 
And  still  I  say  you  do  me  injury, 
Devouring  thus  the  substance  of  my  sire  ! 


40  ULYSSES 

ANTIN.  Then  let  your  mother  make  her  choice 

of  us! 

Would  she  have  strength  and  splendour  of  the  limbs, 
Sap  of  the  body  and  youth's  burning  blood, 
I  little  doubt  on  whom  her  choice  will  fall. 
EURYM.  Nor  I  —  would  she   have  prudence  in 

her  lord 
And  craft. 

CTES.         And  I  say  nothing,  but  \  know 
A  woman  before  prudence  chooseth  gold. 

ANTIN.  \Striking  tablc.~\   And   till   she   answer, 

none,  not  Zeus  himself 
Nor  all  the  gods  shall  turn  me  out  of  door. 
EURYM.   Come,   drink,  Telemachus;    we    wish 

thee  well. 

Tis  difficult  for  thee :  I'd  be  thy  friend. 
Come,   lad !    \_Putting   his    arm    about   TELEMA- 
CHUS.] 


VL  YSSES  41 

TELEM.       I'll  not  drink  with  you.     What  to  do? 
EURYM.  Now  that  this  little  tempest  is  o'erblown, 
Sing  to  us,  minstrel,  and  chase  wrath  away. 
Come  and  sit  near  to  me,  Telemachus. 

CTES.  [/«  lachrymose  manner.']     Sing,  minstrel, 

sing  us  now  a  tender  song 
Of  meeting  and  parting,  with  the  moon  in  it; 
I  feel  that  I  could  love  as  I  loved  once. 

[Sighs  deeply.     All  laugh. 
MINSTREL.   O  set  the  sails,  for  Troy,  for  Troy 
is  fallen, 

And  Helen  cometh  home ; 
O  set  the  sails,  and  all  the  Phrygian  winds 

Breathe  us  across  the  foam  ! 
O  set  the  sails  unto  the  golden  West ! 

It  is  o'er,  the  bitter  strife. 
At  last  the  father  cometh  to  the  son, 
And  the  husband  to  the  wife  ! 


42  ULYSSES 

[During  this  song  PENELOPE   has  softly  de- 
scended^ accompanied  by  two  HANDMAIDS, 
and    stands     listening     unnoticed.      She 
holds  her  veil  before  her  face. 
And  she  shall  fall  upon  his  heart 

With  never  a  spoken  word  — 
PEN.    [Dropping  veil.~\     Cease,  minstrel,  cease, 

and  sing  some  other  song; 
Thy  music  floated  up  into  my  room, 
And  the  sweet  words  of  it  have  hurt  my  heart. 
Others  return,  the  other  husbands,  but 
Never  for  me  that  sail  on  the  sea-line, 
Never  a  sound  of  oars  beneath  the  moon, 
Nor  sudden  step  beside  me  at  midnight : 
Never  Ulysses  !     Either  he  is  drowned 
Or  his  bones  lie  on  the  mainland  in  the  rain. 
\_The   SUITORS  gather  around  her  admiringly 
and  importunately. 


ULYSSES  43 

ANTIN.    Lady,  he  sang  to  chase  away  our  wrath. 
Thy  son,  Telemachus,  upbraids  us  all 
That   we   stay   here   too   long,   and  cries,   '  Out ! 

out!' 

But  we  await  your  answer,  still  deferred  : 
Deferred  from  day  to  day,  from  month  to  month. 
I,  I  at  least  no  longer  will  be  fooled, 
Whose  pent  and  flooding  passion  foams  at  bars. 
Choose  one  of  us,  and  they  —  the  rest  —  will  go  ! 

PEN.   Ah  !  sirs,  remember  that  I  but  delay 
To  choose  till  I  have  woven  at  the  loom 
A  shroud  for  old  Laertes. 

MELAN.  O  my  mistress  ! 

How  canst  thou  stand  and  lie  to  noble  men? 
O  Princes,  I  have  spied  on  her,  and  she 
At  night  unravels  what  she  wrought  by  day. 
Ye'll  wait  a  long  time  if  for  this  ye  wait. 

PEN.    Melantho  !  I  was  ever  kind  to  you. 


44  UL  YSSES 

ANTIN.   We  are  tricked  then  ! 

ALL.  We  are  duped  ! 

EURYM.  O  she  is  subtle ! 

PEN.  Princes,  you  drive  me  like  a  hunted  thing 
To  feint  and  double  thus. 

CTES.  A  game  they  play ! 

The  mother  fools  us  and  the  son  reviles  us. 
She  thinks  us  asses,  and  he  calls  us  rats. 
Am  I  then  like  a  vulture  or  a  rat? 

TELEM.   Mother,    'tis  true  I   did   upbraid  them 

all; 

I  am  called  master  here,  but  am  no  master; 
Lord,  but  I  rule  not !   smiled  at  and  passed  by, 
A  shadow  while  these  men  usurp  my  halls. 

EURYM.    [Going    to    TELEMACHUS,    and    laying 
hand  on  his  shoulder.~\     Lady,    indeed  your 
son  hath  much  excuse, 
And  for  his  sake  I'd  urge  you  to  make  answer, 


UL  YSSES  45 

For  his  sake  and  the  sake  of  this  dear  land, 
Which     lies     now    with     defenceless    coast,    a 

rabble 

Leaderless,  laws  and  altars  overturned. 
Let  then  your  son  rise  in  his  father's  room. 
CTES.    Let  the   boy  take  the  reins  and  drive: 

but  thou 

Depart  with  one  of  us ;  and  better  sure 
A  live  Ctesippus  than  a  dead  Ulysses. 

EURYM.   [Pointing  to  TELEMACHUS.]    Thy  duty 

points  thee  to  thy  son  that  lives  ! 
PEN.   Is  it  so,  child,  this  brooding  on  a  dream 
Hath  kept  thee  from  thy  kingdom?     I  am  wrapt 
So  in  my  husband  I  forget  my  son. 
TELEM.    Mother,  although    my  office    here    is 

hard, 

Yet  would  I  rather  lie  out  by  the  door, 
Cursed,  spat  on,  offal  thrown  to  me  for  food, 


46  UL  YSSES 

Than  any  grief  of  mine  should  hasten  you 
To  answer  with  your  lips  but  not  your  heart, 
Or  be  the  cause  of  your  departing  hence. 

PEN.  And    yet  I   see  'tis   so,  and    that    dear 

ghost 

Excludes  the  living  child :  forgive  me,  son. 
\_To  the  SUITORS.]    Yet,  sirs,  I  cannot  on  the  in- 
stant choose : 

I  lose  your  faces  in  the  thought  of  him. 
Not  on  the  instant  —  give  me  a  brief  space ! 
Then  will  I  choose  as  husband  one  of  you. 
CTES.  Though  she  looked   straight  before   her 

didst  thou  see 
How  her  eye  wandered  toward  me? 

EURYM.  She  looked  not 

On  me :  that  argues  in  a  woman  love. 
ANTIN.   See,  the  young  moon  hath  not  begun 
to  quicken, 


UL  YSSES  47 

And  on  the  evening  hangs  awaiting  life. 
We'll  give  thee  time  till  yonder  moon  is  full : 
Then    shalt    thou    choose    from    us.     Till   then ! 

No  more. 
PEN.   I  will  do  so. 

TELEM.  Mother,  think  not  that  I  — 

PEN.   My  child,  I  have  no  blame  for  you  at  all. 
EURYM.  \To  SurroRS.]    Thy  answer,  then,  when 

that  faint  moon  is  full ! 

ANTIN.  I  challenge  any  here  to  hurl  the  quoit : 
To  the  market-place. 

EURYM.  Haste,  then,  ere  it  grow  dark. 

[TELEMACHUS  again  comes  forward  to 

PENELOPE. 
PEN.   Go  with   them,  child !     Nay,  thou  hast 

done  no  wrong. 

[Exeunt  all  but  PENELOPE,  who  stands  stretching 
out  her  arms  in  the  darkening  twilight. 


48  ULYSSES 

Where  art  thou,  husband  ?    Dost  thou  lie  even  now 
Helpless  with  coral,  and  swaying  as  the  sea  sways? 
Or  dost  thou  live,  and  art  with  magic  held 
By  some  strange  woman  on  a  lone  sea  isle? 
Yet  we  are  bound  more  close  than  by  a  charm ; 
By  fireside  plans  and  counsel  in  the  dawn  — 
Like    gardeners    have    we    watched    a    growing 

child. 

Thy  son  is  tall,  thou  wilt  be  glad  of  him; 
All  is  in  order ;  by  the  fire  thy  chair, 
Thy  bed  is  smoothed,  but  now  these  hands  have 

left  it. 

Thou  knowest  the  long  years  I  have  not  quailed, 
True  to  a  vision,  steadfast  to  a  dream, 
Indissolubly  married  to  remembrance ; 
But  now  I  am  so  driven  I  faint  at  last ! 
Why  must  my  beauty  madden  all  these  wolves? 
Why  have  the  gods  thus  guarded  my  first  bloom  ? 


UL  YSSES  49 

Why  am  I  fresh,  why  young,  if  not  for  thee? 
Come  !  come,  Ulysses  !     Burn  back   through   the 

world  ! 

Come,  take  the  broad  seas  in  one  mighty  leap, 
And  rush  upon  this  bosom  with  a  cry, 
Ere  'tis  too  late,  at  the  last,  last  instant  —  come  ! 

\_Again  the  MINSTREL'S  song  is  heard  as  the 
scene  changes. 

SCENE  II 

The  shore  of  Ogygia  with  the  sea-cave  of  Calypso. 
A  vine  full  of  fruit  trails  over  one  side  of  the 
cave,  and  round  about  it  grow  whispering 
poplars  and  alders,  from  under  which  rillets  of 
water  run  to  the  sea.  Beyond,  a  verdant  shore, 
with  thickets  of  oleander,  etc.,  and  the  ship 
of  ULYSSES  lying  beached.  Within  the  cave 

a  fire    burning  gives    out  the   smell  of   sawn 
D 


50  UL  YSSES 

cedar  and  sandal-wood.  The  sun  behind  is 
sinking,  and  the  water  is  golden,  while  over 
all  broods  a  magic  light.  A  chorus  of  OCEAN- 
NYMPHS  is  discovered  dancing  and  singing  on 
the  sands. 

Enter  along  the  shore  ULYSSES  and  CALYPSO. 

CAL.   Art  thou  content  then,  utterly  content  ? 

ULYS.    I'll   drift  no  more  upon  the  dreary  sea. 
No  yearning  have  I  now,  and  no  desire. 
Here  would  I  be,  at  ease  upon  this  isle 
Set  in  the  glassy  ocean's  azure  swoon, 
With  sward  of  parsley  and  of  violet, 
And  poplars  shivering  in  a  silvery  dream, 
And  smell  of  cedar  sawn,  and  sandal-wood, 
And  these  low-crying  birds  that  haunt  the  deep. 

CAL.  Thy  home,  then  ?    Hast  no   thought  of 
it  at  all  ? 


ULYSSES  51 

ULYS.   It  seemeth  to  me  like  a  far,  faint  place. 
CAL.    Rememberest  thou  thy  wife  ? 
ULYS.    [Dreamily^  As  through  a  mist : 

And  dim  she  seems,  and  muffled,  and  away. 
Those  crimson  lips  again  !     O  eyes  half-closed, 
That  closing  slowly  draw  my  soul  from  me  ! 
Thou  fallest  back,  thy  hair  blows  in  my  face, 
And  all  the  odour  goeth  to  my  brain. 

CAL.   Come  !      I  would   have  thee  sleep  upon 

this  bank 

Till  the  first  star  shall  light  us  to  our  couch 
Of  o'erblown  roses  and  of  fallen  leaves. 

\_She  leads  ULYSSES    out   and  he  lies  upon  a 

bank. 

Thy  purple  cloak,  wilt  have  it  so,  or  so? 
Now  sleep,  my  love  :  thou  canst  not  go  from  me. 
\_She  returns  and  passes  -within  the  cave. 
\_Calling  the  NYMPHS  about  her: 


52  UL  YSSES 

The  golden  shuttle  and  the  violet  wool : 
And  all  ye  nymphs  sing  to  me  while  I  spin. 
NYMPHS.    [Singing.]     From  the  green  heart  of 
the  waters 

We,  old  ocean's  daughters, 
Have  floated  up  with  mortal  men  to  play; 
Out  of  the  green  translucent  night 
Up  to  the  purple  earthly  light, 
To  dance  with  creatures  of  a  day. 

For  alas  !  we  have  seen  the  sailor  asleep 
Where   the  anchor   rusts   on   the   ooze   of 

the  deep, 

But  never,  never  before 

Have  we  seen  a  mortal  dance  on  the  long  seashore. 

HERM.    [Appearing,  unseen  by  CALYPSO  and  her 

nymphs,  and  standing  over  ULYSSES  where  he 

lies  asleep^}    Ulysses,  thralled   by  passion  this 

long  while, 


ULYSSES  53 

I  lift  from  thee  the  glamour  of  this  isle. 
Olympian  wisdom  bids  thee  waken  free 
Of  white  Calypso's  glimmering  witchery. 
Behold,  I  raise  from  thee  the  magic  woe : 

\Touching  him  with  caduceus. 
Now  lies  it  in  thyself  to  stay  or  go. 

[HERMES  stands  aside  and  watches  ULYSSES, 

who,   slowly   awakening,  begins   to  gaze 

and    stretch    out   his     arms     over    the 

sea. 

NYMPHS.    [Watching  ULYSSES  from  the  mouth 

of  the  cave  and  singing."] 
See,  see  Ulysses,  weary  and  wise. 
Sing  low,  sing  low  with  downcast  eyes; 
For  he  rouses  at  last, 
And  his  eyes  are  cast 
To  the  land  where  his  spirit  would  be, 
Over  the  violet  sea. 


54  UL  YSSES 

Alas  for  the  arms  that  yearn ! 
Alas  for  the  eyes  that  burn ! 
Ulysses  —  Ulysses  —  ah  ! 

\They  all  start  up  as  HERMES  steps  sud- 
denly amongst  them. 
CAL.   Hermes,  I  know  thee,  though  too  rarely 

seen; 

What  is  your  will  with  me  ?    Art  thou  from  Zeus  ? 
Some    word    of    Zeus    thou    bringest;     let    me 

hear. 

HERM.  Lady,  who  sitteth  there  upon  the  shore  ? 
CAL.   It  is  Ulysses.    Ah,  'tis  not  of  him? 
HERM.  There  sits  the   man  of  whom  I   came 

to  speak. 
CAL.  Say  then  ! 
HERM.  Thus    Zeus   commands :  that 

you  set  free 
Ulysses. 


ULYSSES  55 

CAL.  Ah! 

HERM.  And  waft  him  on  the  deep, 

If  in  his  heart  he  hungers  for  his  home. 

CAL.   He  is  most  happy  and  forgets  his  home. 

HERM.  Yet    if    he     shall    desire    at    last    his 
hearth  — 

CAL.   He  will  not  —  no  !  — 

HERM.  Then  shall  thou  waft  his  sails. 

CAL.   He  shall  not  go  ! 

HERM.  But  Zeus  commands. 

CAL.  I  say 

He  will  not  care  to  go,  doth  not  desire; 
To  leave  me  hath  not  entered  in  his  heart. 
Yet  will  I  set  him  free  if  he  so  choose ; 
But  I  am  sure  of  him. 

HERM.  And  he  shall  have 

More  peril  being  gone,  down  into  hell 
Must   pass,  and  view  the  hollow  night  of  things. 


56  ULYSSES 

CAL.  This  will  I  tell  him. 
HERM.  No  !  for  Zeus  forbids. 

Farewell,  Calypso  —  linger  I  may  not. 

\_Exit  HERMES. 

CAL.   I  cannot  doubt  thee,  and  the  spell  was 
strong. 

[She  goes  to  the  door  of  the  cave  and  calls 
ULYSSES  three  times.  At  last  he  hears 
and  rises,  then  comes  slowly  down  to 
her  rubbing  his  eyes  like  one  awakening 
from  a  trance. 

CAL.  Art  thou  Ulysses  that  so  slowly  comest? 
Who  hath  bewitched  thee  that  thou  gazest  past  me? 
And  thou  wert  wont  to  rush  into  my  arms  ! 

\She   leads   him   within    the  cave  —  ULYSSES 

still  seeming  numbed  and  changed. 
Ulysses,  there  hath  been  a  god  with  me, 
A  messenger  from  Zeus.    Come  from  the  shadow, 


ULYSSES  57 

That  I  may  see  your  face.    Thus  Zeus  commands  : 
'  If  sad  Ulysses  yearns  to  see  his  home  — ' 

[He  starts  and  gazes  again  seaward. 
Ah !   you  would  go  then !   back  the  bright  blood 

comes, 

And  to  your  eyes  the  sea-light ! 
ULYS.  Goddess  —  I  — 

CAL.   '  If  sad  Ulysses  burns  to  see  his  home,' 
Then  Zeus  commands  me  that  I  let  you  go. 
Ah  !  set  your  teeth  upon  your  lips :  but  still 
I  hear  wild  music  at  your  heart. 
ULYS.    [Beginning  to  recover  and  realise^ 

O  whence 

Comes  this  release — or — this  command  of  Zeus? 
CAL.   O  spoil   it   not !    then  thus    comes   this 

release. 

The  gods  have  pity  on  you,  seeing  you 
Unwillingly  beguiled  by  cold  Calypso. 


58  UL  YSSES 

And  more;  I  am  to  swell  your  aching  sails, 
And  breathe  you  with  a  breeze  over  the  deep : 
Only  if  you  desire  —  'tis  in  your  will. 
Well !  well !    Why  do  you  gaze  so  in  my  eyes? 

ULYS.   I   have   learned  to   dread  what   cometh 

suddenly, 

And  sniff  about  a  sweet  thing  like  a  hound : 
And  most  I  dread  the  sudden  gifts  of  gods. 

CAL.  Gifts! 

ULYS.  I   would   say  commands  —  this 

is  some  lure. 
Swear  suddenly  'tis  not !      [Harshly  and  quickly. 

CAL.  Is  this  thy  voice? 

Put  me  upon  my  oath,  and  I'll  swear  false. 
I  tell  you  out  of  a  sad  heart  the  truth. 

ULYS.    [Still  hesitating.]     Who  bore   this   mes- 
sage down? 

CAL.  Hermes. 


ULYSSES  59 

ULYS.  A  most 

Garrulous  god  ! 

CAL.  He  came  from  Zeus  himself. 

ULYS.  And  Zeus  himself  I  trust  not  over-far. 
Hurler  of  bolts !     I  speak  it  reverently. 

[Seizing  her  arm. 

I  will  not  loose  you,  till  you  swear  by  Styx, 
River  of  hell,  the  dreaded  oath  of  gods. 

CAL.   I  swear  to  you  by  Styx,  river  of  hell ! 

ULYS.    [Breaking  away.]   O  then  the  ship,  the 
ship ! 

CAL.    [Defaming  him.~]  A  moment  yet ! 

Kiss  me,  dear  guest !     My  love  for  you  is  deep, 
But  ah  !  not  deep  enough  to  wish  you  home. 

ULYS.  The  gods  command  :  we  mortals  but  obey. 

CAL.  Why  will  you  leave  me?     I  must  let  you 

go, 
But  not  without  a  reason :  must  I  ?     Speak ! 


60  UL  YSSES 

\ 

I  do  but  ask  the  why  of  what  must  be. 

\_Hc  kisses  her  absently, 
Is  this  Ulysses'  kiss? 

ULVS.  Goddess,  this  news 

Makes  me  forgetful. 
CAL.  Worse  and  worse  ! 

ULYS.  Again 

\_Kisses  her. 
CAL.  This  out  of  gratitude?      And  when  you 

gaze 
Into  my  eyes  you  see  a  world  beyond. 

\_He  again  moves  to  go. 
Yet  stay !     I  do  not  ask  for  the  old  look, 
Or  to  lie  nearer  in  the  deep  of  night : 
That's  ended  like  a  song.     But  I  will  know 
Why  you  so  burn  to  sail;    why  suddenly 
I  touch  these  arms  of  stone,  this  hand  of  flint, 
Why  suddenly  your  eyes  peer  seaward,  why 


ULYSSES  61 

All  in  one  moment  you  are  mad  for  home. 
Is  it  your  wife  whom  you  at  last  remember? 
Penelope?  —  doth  she  not  drag  her  feet 
A  little  as  she  walks  ?  —  slow  —  but  how  chaste  ! 
If  I  could  see  her,  I  would  understand. 

ULYS.   I'd  not  compare  Penelope  with  thee. 

CAL.   I  have  shown  you   amorous  craft,  tricks 

of  delay, 

Tears  that  can  fire  men's  blood;    you  must  for- 
get 

These,  and  return  to  simple  husbanding. 
Hath  she  the  way  of  it?   all  the  sweet  wiles? 
The  love  that  shall  not  weary,  must  be  art. 

ULYS.   She  hath  no  skill  in  loving  —  but  to  love. 

CAL.  And  are  her  eyes  dark;    dark,  yet  with 

lightning? 
Never  a  blue  eye  held  a  man  like  thee. 

ULYS.   I  have  forgot  the  colour  of  her  eyes. 


62  UL  YSSES 

CAL.   Patient  and  fair  and  comfortable?  yes? 
Stands  she  as  I  do?    Is  her  head  so  poised? 
ULYS.  How  should  a  mortal  like  a  goddess  stand  ? 
CAL.    And  can  she  set  a  rose  in  bosom  or  hair? 
ULYS.   She  hath  a  wisdom  amid  garden  flowers. 
CAL.   Doth  she  sing  sweet? 
ULYS.  The  songs  of  my  own  land. 

CAL.    \_SuddenlyJ]  She  hath   forgotten   thee,  so 

long  away. 
ULYS.   I  would  remind  her  with  what  speed  I 

can. 

CAL.   Remember,  she  is  mortal :  she  must  die. 
ULYS.  Therefore  I  flee  the  faster  to  her  side. 
CAL.   O  what  an  end  !     You   two  will  sit  in 

the  sun, 

And  challenge  one  another  with  grey  hairs. 
ULYS.   And  so  to  spare  your  eyes  I  would  be 

gone 


UL  YSSES  63 

Ere  this  my  head  to  such  a  greyness  grow. 
CAL.   How  shall  my  heart  contend  against  your 

brain? 

Now  by  that  time  I  thought  eternity, 
By    long    sea-evenings    when    all    words    would 

cease, 

By  all  the  sad  tales  of  thy  wandering, 
Sad  tales  which  will  be  happy  to  remember, 
Tell  me  the  reason  of  this  haste  to  go. 
Tis  she,  I  know ;   I  want  no  words  to  tell  me. 
But  is  it  she?    And  now  I  do  recall 
Even  in  your  wildest  kiss  a  kiss  withheld, 
Even  in  abandonment  a  something  kept ; 
When  veil  on  veil  fell  from  you,  still  a  veil. 
When    you    so    poured    your    soul    out    that    a 

woman, 

Even  a  woman,  had  in  her  heart  said  '  now  ! ' 
I  felt  in  all  that  sweet  a  something  stern. 


64  UL  YSSES 

ULYS.  Why  harp  upon  my  wife?    You  being 

woman 

Too  much  exalt  the  woman:   a  thousand  calls 
Are  ringing  in  my  ears :    my  mother  pined  — 
CAL.     When    did    a    lover    heed    a    mother's 

woe? 

ULYS.   My  father  desolate  or  dead :  my  son  — 
CAL.  No  father  nor  no  son  could  launch  that 

ship. 
ULYS.  My  comrades,  then ! 

[ULYSSES'  comrades  meanwhile  are  wander- 
ing at  back. 

Whatever  my  inclining, 

They  still  have  homes  which  I  must  think  upon 
Who  took  them  far. 

CAL.  Friend  hath  killed  friend  for  love. 

ULYS.  My  empty  throne  and  my  neglected  land  : 
Duty  — 


ULYSSES  65 

CAL.  O  !   hath  it  come  to  duty  now? 

Duty,  that  grey  ash  of  a  burnt-out  fire, 
That  lies  between  a  woman  and  a  man ! 
We  fence  and  fence  about :   tell  me  the  truth. 
Why  are  you  mad  for  home?  I'll  have  the  truth, 
Once  and  once  only,  but  the  living  truth. 

ULYS.  [/«  a  wild  burst^\  Then  have  the  truth; 

I  speak  as  a  man  speaks; 
Pour  out  my  heart  like  treasure  at  your  feet. 
This  odorous  amorous  isle  of  violets, 
That  leans  all  leaves  into  the  glassy  deep, 
With  brooding  music  over  noontide  moss, 
And  low  dirge  of  the  lily-swinging  bee, — 
Then  stars  like  opening  eyes  on  closing  flowers,  — 
Palls  on  my  heart.     Ah,  God  !   that  I  might  see 
Gaunt  Ithaca  stand  up  out  of  the  surge, 
You  lashed    and    streaming    rocks,  and   sobbing 
crags, 


66  UL  YSSES 

The  screaming  gull  and  the  wild-flying  cloud :  — 
To  see  far  off  the  smoke  of  my  own  hearth, 
To  smell  far  out  the  glebe  of  my  own  farms, 
To  spring  alive  upon  her  precipices, 
And  hurl  the  singing  spear  into  the  air; 
To  scoop  the  mountain  torrent  in  my  hand, 
And  plunge  into  the  midnight  of  her  pines ; 
To  look  into  the  eyes  of  her  who  bore  me, 
And  clasp  his  knees  who  'gat  me  in  his  joy, 
Prove  if  my  son  be  like  my  dream  of  him. 
We  two  have   played  and   tossed    each  other 

words ; 

Goddess  and  mortal  we  have  met  and  kissed. 
Now  am  I  mad  for  silence  and  for  tears, 
For  the  earthly  voice  that   breaks  at  earthly  ills, 
The    mortal   hands   that   make   and   smooth  the 

bed. 
I  am  an-hungered  for  that  human  breast, 


ULYSSES  67 

That  bosom  a  sweet  hive  of  memories  — 
There,  there  to  lay  my  head  before  I  die, 
There,  there  to  be,  there  only,  there  at  last ! 
[CALYPSO  weeps.    ULYSSES  comes  and  touches 

her  softly. 

Remember,  Goddess,  the  great  while  it  is, 
How  far,  far  back,  alas  how  long  ago ! 

CAL.  [Clinging   about  him.']      Now    wilt    thou 

leave  me,  now,  close  on  the  hour 
Of  silent  planets  luring  us  thro'  dew, 
And  steady  pouring  slumber  from  the  waves, 
Wave  after  wave  upon  the  puzzling  brain? 
ULYS.  My  wife,  my  wife  ! 
CAL.  And,  mortal,  I  will  breathe 

Delicious  immortality  on  thee. 
Stay  with  me,  and  thou  shall  not  taste  of  death. 
ULYS.  I  would  not   take   life  but  on  terms  of 
death, 


68  ULYSSES 

That  sting  in  the  wine  of  being,  salt  of  its  feast 
To  me  what  rapture  in  the  ocean  path 
Save  in  the  white  leap  and  the  dance  of  doom? 
O  death,  thou  hast  a  beckon  to  the  brave, 
Thou  last  sea  of  the  navigator,  last 
Plunge  of  the  diver,  and  last  hunter's  leap. 
CAL.    Yet,   yet,  Ulysses,    know    that    thou   art 

going 

Into  a  peril  not  of  sky  nor  sea, 
But  to  a  danger  strange  and  unimagined. 

ULYS.  I'd  go  down  into  hell,  if  hell  led  home  ! 
CAL.  [Resignedly.]     Call    up    your    comrades ! 

Bid  them  hoist  the  sails  ! 

ULYS.  Comrades !      [He    lifts    his    arms    and 

cries  to  his  followers,  who  come  running  to 

him,    leaving    the    NYMPHS    on    the    shore.~\ 

Great    hearts,   that  with   me    have    so    long 

Breasted  the  wave  and  broken  through  the  snare, 


ULYSSES  69 

Have  we  not  eaten  and  drunk  on  magic  shores? 
Your  hands  here ! 

\They  crowd  round  him  eagerly,  some  clasp- 
ing, others  kissing  his  hands. 
COMRADES.          O  great  captain  ! 
ULYS.  Have  we  not 

Heard  all  the  Sirens  singing  and  run  free? 
COM.  Lead  !  lead  ! 

ULYS.  Close,  close  to  me  !   have  we  not  burst 
Up  from  the  white  whirl  of  Charybdis'  pool? 
COM.   Storm-weatherer  !   mighty  sailor  ! 

[They  clasp  his  knees. 

ULYS.  what  ^  y°u? 

Shall  we  put  forth  again  upon  the  deep? 

COM.  We  will  go  with  thee  even  into  hell ! 

\_They  raise  a  great  shout. 

ULYS.  Then  Zeus  decrees  that  we  again  set  forth 
And  break  at  last  the  magic  of  this  isle. 


70  UL  YSSES 

COM.   Yet  whither  —  whither? 
"ULYS.  Would  ye  see  at  last 

Gaunt  Ithaca? 

COM.  Ah,  God! 

ULYS.  Would  ye  behold 

The    bright    fires    blaze    and    crackle    on    your 

hearths? 

COM.  Torment  us  not ! 

ULYS.  Would  you  again  catch  up 

Your  babes? 

COM.  Have  pity ! 

ULYS.  And  clasp  again  your 

wives  ? 

COM.   Cease  !   cease  ! 
ULYS.  Then  homeward  will  we 

sail  to-night. 

COM.    [  With  amazed  cries. ~]    Home?     Home? 
\_A  wail  of  NYMPHS  is  heard  on  sands. 


ULYSSES  71 

ULYS.  Now  lay  the  rollers  under  her, 

And  you  make  taut  the  ropes,  you,  hoist  the  sails, 
And  run  her  down  with  glee  into  the  deep  ! 
COM.  [Rushing  off  in  various  directions.]    The 
ship  !    the  ship  !     Ithaca  !     Praise  the  gods  ! 
CAL.   [Coming  out  with  cup.~\   The  cup,  Ulys- 
ses !     Drink  to  me  farewell ! 
ULYS.    [Taking   cup.~\    First    unto    Zeus    that 

would  not  have  us  die, 
But  suffered  us  to  see  our  homes  again. 
Farewell,  Calypso,  the  red  sun  half  way 
Is  sunk  and  makes  a  firelight  o'er  the  deep. 

CAL.   Remember  me  a  little  when  thou  comest 
To  thine  own  country.     Say  farewell  to  me, 
Not  to  the  thought  of  me  ! 

ULYS.  I  will  not.     See  ! 

The    ship    moves !       Hark,   their  shouts !       She 
moves !   she  moves. 


72  UL  YSSES 

Hear  you  the  glorying  shingle  cry  beneath  her? 
She  spreads  her  wings  to  fly  upon  the  deep  ! 
\_The  cries  of  ULYSSES'  crew  are  heard  as  the 
ship  is  shoved  down  and  they  climb  in. 
ULYSSES    springs  in  and  stands    in   the 
stern. 

MEN.  We  float !   we  float ! 
ULYS.  Now  each  man  to  the  oar 

And,  leaning  all  together,  smite  the  sea  ! 
For  it  is  fated  we  shall  see  our  homes  ! 

\_The  ship  puts  off,  and  the  wind  raised  by 

CALYPSO  fills  the  sails. 

CAL.  I  breathe  a  breeze  to  waft  thee  over  sea  ! 
Ah,  could  I  waft  thee  back  again  to  me  ! 

\_The  ship  gradually  disappears,  the  joyous 
chorus  of  ULYSSES'  boatmen  dying  off  as 
the  wailing  of  the  NYMPHS  becomes 
louder.  A  cloud  gathers  over  the  scene. 


UL  YSSES  73 

[The  curtain  descends t  but  rising  again  dis- 
covers the  ship,  now  a  black  speck  on 
red  sunset,  and  CALYPSO  standing  alone 
looking  after  it  across  the  sea. 

[  Wailing  of  SEA-NYMPHS. 

CURTAIN 


ACT    II 


ACT  II 

SCENE  I 

A  gloomy  barren  shore,  with  black  broken  cliffs 
and  a  few  cowering  frees :  at  the  back  the 
entrance  to  a  vast  cave.  Enter  ULYSSES 
slowly,  armed  and  carrying  a  hunting  spear; 
he  gazes  about  him. 

ULYS.     A  dark   land  and   a   barren !      Hither 
urged 

By  strange  and  cold  compulsion  of  the  sea, 

What  hope  for  us  of  shelter  or  of  food? 

A  grassless,  fruitless,  unsustaining  shore  ! 

I  have  outpaced  my  comrades.    [  Calls~\  Phocion  ! 

Elpenor  !     The  gods  lied  to  me  who  swore 

That  we  should  see  our  homes  again.      Yet  now, 
77 


78  UL  YSSES 

What  breathed  sweetness   as  of  blended  flowers? 
Nearer  and  nearer  still ! 

Enter  ATHENE. 

Athene !  Thou ! 

Preceded  by  the  fragrance  of  thy  soul. 

ATH.    Ulysses,  know'st  thou  to  what  land  thou 

art  come? 
ULYS.   I  know  not,  but  I  know  the  gods  did 

lie 

Who  swore  that  I  should  see  at  last  my  home. 
ATH.     The  gods   lied   not,    for   thou   shalt   see 

thy  home. 

ULYS.    \_Eagerfy.~\    Ah ! 

ATH.          If  thou  hast  but  courage  to  descend 
Thither ;  to  gather  tidings  of  thy  land 
There,  in   the   dark   world,   and   win    back    thy 

way. 
ULYS.   What  world? 


ULYSSES  79 

ATH.  Doth  not  the  region  even  now 

Strike    to    thy    heart?      These    warning    cypress 

trees, 

This  conscious  umbrage  cowering  to  the  ground, 
The  creeping  up  of  the  slow  fearful  foam ; 
Rocks  rooted  in  the  terror  of  some  cry 
That  rang  in  the  beginning  of  the  world : 
All  nature  frighted  into  barrenness. 
Lo,  mortal,  here  the  very  gate  of  death, 
And  this  no  other  than  the  door  of  hell ! 

[ULYSSES  falls  on  his  face. 

Swoonest  thou  down,  Ulysses?    Wouldst  thou  see 
Thy  home? 

ULYS.  My  home,  alas  ! 

ATH.  Thither!    Wouldst  thou 

Catch  to  thy  breast  thy  wife? 

ULYS.  My  wife,  my  wife  ! 

ATH.   Thither! 


8o  UL  YSSES 

ULYS.    [Rising    wildly.'}     Who    should    endure 

this  ?     Back  to  the  sea ! 
Back  to  the  wild  sea !     Farewell,  Ithaca  ! 
To  the  wild  winds  !     Penelope,  farewell ! 

\_Makes  to  go. 
ATH.  Ulysses! 

\_He  stops. 

Hast  thou  that  in  thee  which  I 
Have  vaunted  of  thee  'mid  the  mighty  gods, 
And  have  stood  surety  for  thee  in  high  heaven? 

ULYS.   Hast  thou  no  pity? 

ATH.  More  than  ever  a  woman ; 

But  as  my  pity,  so  my  pride  in  thee. 

ULYS.     Why  unto  me,  to  me  alone,  is  heaven 
For  ever  cruel?     Have  I  not  borne  enough, 
Cyclops  and  Sirens  and  Charybdis'  whirl, 
Ogre  and  witch  and  dreadful  swoop  of  winds, 
That    hell    now    stands    between    me    and    my 
home? 


VL  YSSES  8 1 

ATH.  The    Power    that    is    behind    the    gods 

decrees 
To  make  a  fiery  trial  of  thy  spirit. 

ULYS.   Is  there  no  other  way? 

ATH.  Thither  alone, 

Led  by  cold  Hermes,  who  alone  of  gods 
May  pass  that  portal.     Now,  Ulysses,  learn 
What  first  must  be  encountered,  and  o'ercome. 
Right  in  the  threshold  Hunger  stands,  and  Hate, 
And  gliding  Murder  with  his  lighted  face, 
And  Madness  howling,  Fear,  and  neighing  Lust, 
And  Melancholy  with  her  moony  smile, 
And  Beauty  with  blood  dripping  from  her  lips. 
Then  shalt  thou  view  the  inmost  house  of  woe, 
And  all  the  faint  unhappy  host  of  hell. 
If  these  thou  canst  endure  and  pass,  thou  shalt 
Hear  tidings  of  thy  home  and  of  thy  wife, 
Emerge  and  come  at  last  to  thine  own  land. 

F 


82  UL  YSSES 

ULYS.  The  gods  lay  on  me  more  than  I  can 
bear. 

ATH.   Thy  native  shore ! 

ULYS.  The  darkness  and  the  dead  ! 

ATH.   Thy  warm  fire-blaze  ! 

ULYS.  The  grave  and  all  the  grief! 

ATH.  Voice  of  thy  wife  ! 

\_Faint  waitings  from  the  abyss. 

ULYS.  That  crying  from  the  deep  ! 

ATH.   Dare,  dare  it ! 

ULYS.  Is  it  sworn  I  shall  return 

Upward  and  homeward? 

ATH.  In  thy  will  it  lies. 

Thou,  thou  alone  canst  issue  out  of  hell. 

ULYS.   Then?    Then? 

ATH.  Thou  shalt  return.    Zeus 

give  thy  voice. 

{Thunder. 
ULYS.   I  go  5 


ULYSSES  83 

ATH.  Now  thou  art  mine  ! 

[She  vanishes. 

COMRADES.    [Heard  o/.]        Ulysses!    Where? 
Enter  COMRADES. 

ELPENOR.   We  have  found  thee,  captain  ! 
ANOTHER.  Does  this  land  give  aught 

That  we  can  eat? 

ANOTHER.  Or  drink? 

ANOTHER.  O  good  roast  flesh ! 

ANOTHER.    Even  bread  were  something. 
ANOTHER.  Great  Ulysses,  speak  ! 

[ULYSSES  remains  with  fixed  gaze  on  the  en- 
trance of  the  cave. 

ANOTHER.   What  hast  thou  speared  for  supper, 
hunter  fleet? 

[ULYSSES  slowly  turns  and  looks  on   them. 


84  UL  YSSES 

ULYS.    Listen ! 

\_A  sound  of  cries,  at  first  faint,  rises.    They 
all  come   round  him  fearfully.      Three 
times  the  cries  arise,  each  time  louder. 
PHOCION.*  Who  are  they  that  cry  up  from  the 

earth  ? 

ULYS.   The  dead! 
COM.  The  dead ! 

PHOC.  And  this?    What 

is  the  place? 

ULYS.   We  now  are   standing  at   the    door  of 
hell! 
[THEY  shudder  away  from    him    in  silence, 

all  but  PHOCION. 
PHOC.   Come  !  come  away  ! 
ULYS.  No  !  for  I  must 

descend. 
Thus  only  can  we  reach  our  homes  again. 


ULYSSES  85 

PHOC.   In   every  peril  have  I  been  with  thee : 
Let  me  be  with  thee  here  ! 
ULYS.    [Tenderly. .]     My  Phocion  ! 
ELP.   I   am  an   old,   old   man !    am   long   for- 
gotten 

Even  by  my  dearest.     Let  me  go  with  thee  ! 
ULYS.   It  may  not  be :   leave  me,  and  say  no 
word ! 

[They  gradually  disappear. 
[ULYSSES  advances  and  peers  info  the  dark. 
A  long  solitary  cry   causes  him  to  reel 
back,    and  he    seems    to    hesitate,   when 
again     ATHENE     stands     opposite     him 
smiling.     After    a    mute    appeal   to    her 
for  help,  she   vanishes.      He   again  ad- 
vances, but  recoils  as  from   some   terri- 
ble sight. 
HERM.    [  Within]   Ulysses  1 


86  ULYSSES 

COM.    [From  a  distance^   Ulysses  ! 

[ULYSSES   after  a  momenfs  pause  gradually 
and  fearfully  descends. 

SCENE  II 

The  descent  into  Hades.  As  the  stage  is  dark- 
ened waitings  are  heard  and  a  sound  of 
moaning  wind  which  ceases  as  Scene  II.  dis- 
closes a  world  of  darkness  with  all  things  im- 
palpable, save  for  a  precipitous  descent  dimly 
seen,  and  at  its  foot  a  livid  river  flowing,  a 
black  barge  floating  on  it.  There  is  a  continual 
movement  as  of  wings  and  flying  things.  A 
sudden  flash  of  ULYSSES'  armour  discovers  him 
beginning  to  descend  warily  with  HERMES  in 
silence. 

ULYS.   Darkness ! 
HERM.  Descend ! 


UL  YSSES  87 

ULYS.  Thy  hand  !     I  fear  to  fall. 

HERM.     Thou,    thou    alone    canst     downward 

tread. 

ULYS.  But   this ! 

Is  it  ocean,  land,  or  air?     I  grope  down,  down  ! 
[PausfsJ]    A  whist  world  !  but  for  whirring  as  of 
wings. 

[He  looks  down  intently. 

Is   that    a   forest   yonder,   that    sways   and   sighs 
With  a  vast  whisper?  yet  no  trees  I  see. 
And  there,  what  seems  an  ocean  :    yet  no  wave  ! 
The  wonder  of  it  takes  away  the  fear. 

\They  descend  further.     ULYSSES  pauses  as  a 

faint  cry  is  heard. 
Listen  ! 

\Again   the  cry  comes,  nearer.     Again,  and 
nearer. 
What  cry,  so  feeble  and  so  frail? 


88  ULYSSES 

HERM.    It    is    the  cry   of  children   that   died 

young. 

The  glitter  of  thy  armour  lures  them  toward  thee. 
{The  SPIRITS  of  CHILDREN  flit  about  him  with 

wistful  cries. 
ULYS.    Little   bewildered   ghosts   in   this   great 

night ! 
They  flock  about  me  — 

HERM.  Wandering  on  their  way 

To  banks  of  asphodel  and  spirit  flowers. 

ULYS.  Ah,   a  girl's  face !      A  boy  there  with 

bright  hair  ! 

He  is  new  come  and  is  not  listless  yet. 
And  thou  dost  make  a  little  prattling  noise 
And  hast  not  learned  to  speak  ! 

A  CHILD.  O  the  bright  armour ! 

ANOTHER.   O  father,  bring  us   to  the  place  of 
flowers  ! 


ULYSSES  89 

ANOTHER.  We  have  lost  our  way  !      Show  us 
the  grassy  fields  ! 
[ULYSSES  makes  appealing  gesture  to  HERMES, 

who  stands  silent. 

ULYS.   I   cannot   bring  you,  children,  to  those 
flowers. 
{The  CHILDREN  //'/  away  with  wistful  cries. 

ULYSSES  starts  forward. 
And  'tis  not  from  the  prattle  of  dead  babes 
I  shall  have  tidings  of  my  home,  my  wife. 
Down  and  yet  down  ! 

{Again  they  descend. 
[SHAPES  of  FURIES  appear  circling  in  the  air. 

Hermes,  I  am  pursued, 
But    O    by    whom?      As    sharks     to     him     that 

drowns, 

They     make     toward     me,     sidelong     swimming 
shapes ! 


90  ULYSSES 

I'll  draw  my  sword. 

\_He  draws  his    sword  and   thrusts    vainly 

at  the  SHAPES. 

HERM.  What  use  to  strike  at  phantoms? 

The  Furies  these,  who  hurrying  to  the  earth 
To  scourge  the  wicked,  scent  thee  in  mid-flight. 
ULYS.  [/«  terror^\    Over   and   over   me !    and 

round  and  round  ! 

They'll  search  the  guilt  out  in  my  secret  soul, 
Their  eyes   go  through  my  body  to  my  heart ! 
I  am  but  a  man  !     I  am  all  black  within ! 
They    leave    me,    they    lift    their    faces    to    the 

wind ! 
Upward  they  rush ! 

HERM.  A  sudden  scent  from  earth  ! 

\They  again  descend. 

ULYS.  More  and  more  difficult — yet  down  and 
down  ! 


UL  YSSES  91 

And  now  I  seem  to  wade,  and  now  to  part 
Entangled  branches,  now  pass  through  a  cloud. 
[He  pauses.~\     Hermes,  a  sighing  near  my  feet, 

as  of  reeds. 

And  now  about  me  phantoms,  men   and  women. 

[PHANTOMS  of  SUICIDES  rise  about  him. 

One    hath    a    scarred    throat,    and    that  woman 

holds 
Poison  as  in  a  phial  —  what  are  ye? 

FIRST   PHAN.    {To  ULYSSES.]   Thou,   thou   hast 

life  in  thee,  and  flesh  and  blood. 
See,  see  the  man  is  in  the  body  yet. 
ULYS.  What  are  ye? 

SECOND  PHAN.   Spirits  of  those  who  cast  away 

Sweet  life  and  slew  ourselves  with  violent  hands. 

\The  PHANTOMS  circle  about  him. 

FIRST  PHAN.  In  madness  I ! 

SECOND  PHAN.  And  I  in  jealousy ! 


92  ULYSSES 

PHAN.  OF  PH/EDRA.    Me !    Me !    Knowest  thou 

not  me?     Phaedra  was  I, 
The  queen  that  burned  for  cold   Hippolytus, 
Who  scorned  me  till  I  knotted  here  the  noose. 
ULYS.  And  art  thou  Phaedra? 
PHJEDR.  Give  me  back  the  sun 

And  all  the  scorn  again  !     Only  the  sun  ! 

FIRST   PHAN.    Seest   thou   that   glimmer?   there 

still  gleams  the  world  ! 
PHANTOMS.    [Together.]     Back  :    take  us  back  ! 

How  soon  these  wounds  would  heal ! 
ULYS.   O    ye    that    being    dead,    so    love    the 

light ! 
Yet     is     there     not    some    dear    and    favourite 

field, 

Some  holiest  earth  where  each  of  ye  would  be? 
PHANTOMS.  [  Wheeling  round.~\     Ah,  ah  ! 
ULYS.  Doth  one  of  you  perchance  remember 


UL  YSSES  93 

A  windy  land  that  stands  out  of  the  sea 
Gull- haunted,  and  men  call  it  Ithaca? 

[The  PHANTOMS  float  away  with   sad  cries. 

A  pause. 

No  !   not  from  babes  nor  these  who  slew  them- 
selves 

Wring  I  one  word  of  that  which  I  would  know. 
Ah  !  bring  me  to  that  ghost  that  shall  reveal ! 

[Again  they  descend,  but  ULYSSES  pauses. 
HKR.M.  Why  tarry  we,  Ulysses? 
ULVS.  Hermes,  this  world 

Begins  to  grip  my  heart  with  gradual  cold  ! 
O  how  shall  I  descend  in  flesh  and  blood 
Unready  and  unripe  ?     I  have  not  died : 
Therefore  I  fear !     You  gods,  first  let  me  have 
The  pang,  the  last  sweat  and  the  rattling  throat, 
The  apparelling  and  the  deep  burying, 
And  die  ere  I  descend  amid  the  dead. 


94  ULYSSES 

HERM.  Tis  in  thy  will.     Remember  Ithaca. 
ULYS.  [  With   effort ^\  Down,  down  !     Yet  terror 
hath  ta'en  hold  on  me. 
\The    burning  forms    of    LOVERS    suddenly 

surround  him. 

O  what  are  ye?    What  fire  consumes  you  still? 
FIRST  PHAN.  We  are  the  spirits  of  lovers  who 

still  love. 
ULYS.  Did  not  the  cold  grave  all  that  burning 

quench  ? 
SECOND  PHAN.  No  !  for  that  fire  did  eat  into 

our  souls. 
PHAN.  OF  EURYDICE.   Look  upon   me !    I  am 

Eurydice 

That  for  one  moment  was  so  near  the  day, 
When  Orpheus  backward  looked,  and  all  was  night. 
O  lay  me  on  his  heart  again ! 

\The  PHANTOMS  wheel  about  him. 


ULYSSES  95 

PHAN.  OF  PROTESILAUS.  Ah !  come, 

Laodamia ! 

PHAN.  OF  PHYLLIS.    [  Woman^    O  Demophoon  ! 

ANOTHER.   O  fire  that  dies  not  with  our  death  ! 

ANOTHER.  Alas ! 

ULYS.   Do  I  not  burn  for  a  breast  unreachable, 
And  languish  for  one  voice  I  may  not  hear? 
For  her  that  weepeth  by  the  rolling  sea, 
Penelope ! 

[PHANTOMS  disappear  with  waitings. 
No  answer  still,  no  word  ! 
That  oath  was  hollow  as  this  hollow  world 
Which  said  I  should  hear  tidings  of  my  home. 
Where  is  that  spirit  that  shall  tell  me? 

HERM.  Lo ! 

The  foot  of  the  descent ! 

ULYS.  Have  I  then  come 

Thro'  hell  at  last :  now  surely  —  now  to  hear. 


96  ULYSSES 

HERM.   No,  for  the  river  waits   thee  and   the 

barge. 

ULYS.   What  river? 

HERM.   See  !  the  creeping  Stygian  stream, 
The  mournful  barge  in  which  thou  must  embark 
And  drift  thro'  more  tremendous  torments,  ere 
Thou  shall  have  tidings  of  thy  home  and  wife. 
ULYS.   \Wildly  ^\    Is't  not  enough  to  have   de- 
scended hither 

Breathing  and  in  the  flesh?    Now  must  I  drift 
Upon  the  dreadful  river?    Spare  me,  Zeus  ! 
Athene,  who  didst  never  leave  me  yet, 
Athene  !  hearken  !  —  even  she  forsakes  me. 
O  Hermes ! 

HERM.          None  can  aid  thee  but  thy  will. 
ULYS.  [  With  a  cry.~\  On,  Hermes,  on,  even  to 
the  river  of  hell ! 
\They  approach  the  river,  and  HERMES  enters 


ULYSSES  97 

the  barge,  but  as  ULYSSES  is   embarking 
CHARON  starts  forward  oar  in  hand. 
CHARON.  Stay    thou !      The    flesh    still    clings 

about  thy  limbs, 

The   blood  runs  in  thy  veins !      Rash   fool,  for- 
bear ! 

Here  is  no  passage  save  for  spirits !     Back ! 
Back  to  the  earth  or  fear  some  monstrous  doom. 
\_He  thrusts  ULYSSES  aside. 
HERM.   Charon  !  by  heaven's  permission  comes 

this  man. 

Take    thou     thy    oar    and    urge    us    down    the 
stream. 
[They  begin  to  drift,  and  now  they  pass  the 

woe  of  TANTALUS  and  the  fruit. 
Lo  !  Tantalus  in  his  eternal  thirst 
Still  reaching  at  the  fruit  he  may  not  grasp. 

See  how  the  wind  carries  the  branches  from  him. 
c 


98  UL  YSSES 

ULYS.   Ah  !  Tantalus,  do  I  not  reach  and  grasp 
not? 

\They  pass  the  woe  of  TANTALUS   and  drift 
onward,    when    suddenly    on    the    bank 
TEIRESIAS  the  Seer  starts  forward. 
TEIR.  Ulysses,  art  thou  come,   then?      Is  no 

toil 
Too   hard   for   thee    that    thou   must    drift   thro' 

hell? 

ULYS.  Teiresias,  prophet  true  !  of  all  men  thee, 
Thee  do  I  thirst  to  hear,  now  shall  I  know. 
Shall  I  return  unto  my  home  at  last? 
TEIR.  Thou  shalt  return. 
ULYS.  O  Zeus ! 

TEIR.  Yet  with  sheer  loss 

Of  all  thy  comrades  under  tempest  crash. 
ULYS.  Alas  ! 
TEIR.          And  to  a  home  of  strife  and  storm  ; 


UL  YSSES  99 

To  deadlier  peril  even  than  here  in  hell; 
To  danger  and  to  darkness  shah  return. 

ULYS.  And  she,  Penelope  —  doth  she  still  live? 

TEIR.   She  lives. 

ULYS.  O  thou  kind  heaven !  and  holds 

she  true? 
TEIR.   She  lives. 

ULYS.        O  if  thou  hast  a  heart,  though  dead, 
Thou  wilt  not  leave  me  thus. 

TEIR.  She  lives:  farewell. 

\_The  SHADE  of  TEIRESIAS  disappears ;   again 

they  drift  onward. 
ULYS.  '  Lives '   and   no   more  is  worse   to  me 

than  'dead.' 

Would  that  I  had  known  nothing !  onward  —  on  ! 
This  fire  he  hath  put  in  me  I  must  quench  ! 
\They  pass    the   woe  of   SISYPHUS   and  the 
stone. 


ioo  ULYSSES 

HERM.   See  Sisyphus  that  in  his  anguish  rolls 
Upward,  ever,  the  stone  which  still  rebounds. 
Mark  how  the  sweat  falls,  and  what  whirl  of  dust ! 
ULYS.   Ah,  brother,  such  a  stone  I  roll  in  vain  ! 
There  is  no  torment  here  that  is  not  mine. 

\They  pass  the  woe  of  SISYPHUS,  and  again 

drift  on. 
ULYS.   Is  there  not  one  of  all  these  ghosts  that 

throng 

The  bank,  one  only,  that  can  tell  me  truth. 
Hermes  !  yon  spirit  lordlier  than  the  rest 
With  something  in  his  pace  familiar : 
See  how  he  Cometh  thro'  the  other  shades 
With  such  imperial  stride  and  sovereign  motion. 
HERM.  {To  SHADE.]    Stay  thou  ! 

{The  SHADE   turn s,  disclosing  the  form 

of  AGAMEMNON. 
ULYS.  Ah,  mighty  Agamemnon  !  king  ! 


UL  YSSES  101 

0  royal  'mid  the  dead  as  in  the  light ! 

1  am  Ulysses :  often  we  took  counsel 
Under  the  stars,  in  the  white  tents,  at  Troy. 
Now  speak  to  me :  a  living  man  I  come 
Amid  the  dead  for  tidings  of  my  wife 
Penelope.     Doth  she  hold  true  to  me? 

AGAM.   Ulysses,  fear  thy  wife  !     Fear  to  return. 
ULYS.   What?    What?    O  speak! 
AGAM.  Thy  wife  awaits  thee  now 

Coiled    like    a   snake    to    strike    thee    with  her 
fangs. 

ULYS.  Unthinkable ! 

* 
AGAM.  She  weaveth  death  for  thee  ! 

ULYS.   Horrible ! 

AGAM.  Look  on  me,  me  whom  my  wife 

False  Clytemnaestra  lured  unto  the  bath 
And   struck  me  here  where  now  thou  see'st  the 
wound. 


102  ULYSSES 

I  that  first  night  did  bathe  in  my  own  blood, 
The  first  night,  the  sweet  night  of  my  return. 
ULYS.  \Bowing  his  head.~\    O  Agamemnon ! 
AGAM.  She  while  I  did  fight 

About  Troy  city  for  ^gisthus  burned, 
She  snared,  she  slew  me,  then  with  him  she  slept. 
ULYS.   Penelope  !     I'll  kiss  thee  and  fear  not. 
AGAM.   Never  so  sweet  was  Clytemnaestra's  kiss 
As  on  that  night,  her  voice,  never  so  soft. 

\_T7ie  SHADE  of  AGAMEMNON  disappears,  and 

again  they  drift  onward. 
ULYS.  Are  these  the  tidings,  these  for  which  I 

dared 

This  darkness  and  the  very  river  of  hell? 
I'll  not  believe  it.     O  for  some  fresh  voice ! 
On,  on  !     I  cannot  hear  worse  words  than  these. 
[  They  pass  the  woe  of  PROMETHEUS  and  the 
vulture. 


ULYSSES  103 

HERM.   Behold  Prometheus,  who  stole  fire  from 

heaven ; 

Now  at  his  heart  the  eternal  vulture  eats. 
ULYS.   Prometheus,  on  this  breast   too  anguish 

feeds, 

And  on  this  heart  swoops  down  the  eating  fear: 
The  fear  lest  I  should  find  her  false  at  last, 
False,  false  after  such  sea,  after  such  storm ; 
False  tho'  I  stumble  toward  her  out  of  hell 
You  gods,  impose  some  limit !     Now  to  know, 
To  know  if  she  be  true,  to  know,  to  know ! 

[They  pass  the  woe  of  PROMETHEUS,  and  again 

drift  onward. 

SHADE  OF  ANTICLEIA.  [  Unseen.~\   Ulysses  ! 
ULYS.  Ah,  who  calls  me  by  my  name? 

ANTI.   Ulysses  ! 

ULYS.  And  the  voice,  tho'  faint  it  comes, 

Is  yet  the  voice  of  one  that  was  a  woman. 


104  ULYSSES 

ANTI.  Ulysses  ! 

ULYS.  And  it  goes  through  all  my 

blood. 

Hermes,  there  is  one  near  me  whom  I  loved : 
A  flitting  shadow,  and  it  comes  and  goes, 
It  stretches  out  its  arms  —  the  face  —  the  face  ! 
'Tis  gone  !     Come  nearer  or  come  not  at  all ! 
Again  !  the  first  face  that  on  earth  I  saw, 
The  shining  eyes  and  the  remembered  smile  ! 
Mother  !  \_He  leaps  on  to  the  bank. 

Here  to  this  breast,  here  to  this  heart ! 
\_ffe    makes    to  clasp  her  but  the   PHANTOM 
eludes  him.     Again  he  seeks  to  embrace 
her  but  in  vain. 
ANTI.   Thou    canst    not    touch   me,    child.      I 

cannot  fold  thee 

For  all  my  yearning.     O  to  have  thy  head 
Again  upon  this  bosom  !  but  alas  ! 


UL  YSSES  105 

I  now  am  but  a  shade  and  a  shadow  that  glides. 

ULYS.  Mother,  thy  kiss! 

ANTI.  These  were    the    lips 

that  kissed  thee, 

This  was  the  very  breast  which  gave  thee  milk, 
And  this  the  voice  that  sang  thee  into  sleep. 

ULYS.   What  brought  thee  to  thy  death? 

ANTI.  Waiting  for  thee, 

Waiting  and  weeping,  and  long  wondering. 

ULYS.   Alas,  alas  !  and  mother,  she  ?  she  lives  — 
But  stays  she  true  to  me? 

ANTI.  Child,  I  have  come 

But  lately  to  this  place,  and  when  I  died 
Still  was  she  true  to  thee,  and  knew  not  time. 

ULYS.   At  last,  at  last  the  word  that  lighteth  hell ! 
One    word !    and    thou    alone,    mother,    couldst 

speak  it ! 
Thy  voice  alone  :    thine  out  of  all  the  dead  ! 


106  UL  YSSES 

ANTI.    It  seems  no  farther  off  than  yesterday 
That  she  and  I  were  standing  hand  in  hand 
Looking  for  thee  across  the  misted  sea. 

[ULYSSES  weeps. 

But  child,  tho'  lately  I  did  leave  her  true, 
What  hath  befallen  since?    Ulysses,  home! 
I  am  aware  of  tumult  in  thy  halls, 
Confusion  and  a  roar  of  hungry  voices, 
And  peril  closing  round  Penelope : 
Fierce  peril,  child  !     O  hasten  ! 

ULYS.  Ah  !   what  peril  ? 

ANTI.    I  know  not :    but  the  time  is  short :  she 

hath 

Swift  need  of  thee  :  haste,  haste  !  tho'  how  I  yearn 
To  keep  thee   for  a  little  comfort !   yet 
Home,  get  thee  home  ! 

ULYS.  Farewell,  mother — farewell! 

[The  GHOSTS  begin  to  surge  about  him. 


ULYSSES  107 

ANTI.   Speed,  speed  ! 

[ULYSSES  rushes  to  the  foot  of  the  descent,  and 
stumbles  upward,  a  multitude  of  SHADOWS 
swarming  with  cries  about  him. 
ULYS.  She  lives,  and  she  is  true  to  me. 

But  she  hath  need  of  me  !     Up  to  the  earth  ! 

[GHOSTS  wheel  about  him  with  cries. 

0  whirling  dead  !     And  a  great  swirl  of  souls. 

Wife  !  wife  !  I  come. 

[Cries. 

Ithaca !   Ithaca ! 

[Fiercer  cries. 

1  gasp  and  fight  toward  thee  !     Still  endure  ! 
Think  me  not  dead  !     O  hear  me  out  of  hell ! 

[Fiercer    and  louder  cries    of   the   whirling 

dead. 

Ah!   shall  I  reach  that  glimmer?    Upward,  up! 
Faint  not,  Penelope :  faint  not,  endure  ! 


ACT   III 


ACT  III 

SCENE  I 

The  seashore  of  Ithaca  veiled  in  a  sea-mist,  the 
pent-house  in  front  of  the  hut  of  EUM^EUS  the 
swineherd  dimly  visible  up  stage.  ULYSSES,  aged 
by  suffering  and  exposure,  is  lying  a  sleep  under 
a  tattered  sea-cloak  ;  on  one  side  of  him  stands 
ATHENE,  on  the  other  POSEIDON. 

ATH.  [  With  outstretched  arm.']     Depart,  Posei- 
don !    Thou  canst  vex  no  more 
Ulysses,  who  now  sleeps  on  his  own  shore, 
By  hunger  withered  and  by  tempest  wrung, 
From  toil  to  toil,  from  hell  to  shipwreck  flung. 

Here  let  thy  buffetings  and  fury  end  1 
in 


112  ULYSSES 

Pos.   He  shall  not  rest !     Even  here  his  limbs 

I'll  rend: 

Back  to  the  foam-path  shall  the  man  be  hurled, 
To  plunge  and  tumble  on  the  watery  world  ! 

ATH.  Let  Zeus  then  from  Olympus  give  a  sign, 
And  thunder  answer  to  my  prayer  or  thine. 
Pos.   [Raising  his  hands. ,]    Father  of  gods  !  to 

me  be  vengeance  given, 
That    none    henceforward    mock    the   might    of 

heaven. 

ATH.  Father,  permit  the  man  peace  in  his  home, 
And  lift  at  last  the  wandering  curse  of  foam. 

[ZEUS    thunders,   ATHENE    makes   gesture    to 

POSEIDON. 
Pos.  Highest,  I  hear  thy  thunder  and  obey ! 

[Going. 
Woe  to  all  ships  I  meet  upon  my  way. 

[Exit  POSEIDON. 


ULYSSES  113 

ATH.    [Bending  over  ULYSSES.]     At  last  I  ease 

thy  bosom  of  its  sighs, 
And  close  the  tribulation  of  those  eyes. 
Soft  as  a  sister  over  thee  I  bend, 
Mortal,  and  move  as  an  immortal  friend. 
There  is  no  earthly  burning  in  this  breast, 
No  fever,  but  this  love  is  rich  in  rest; 
The  wistfulness  of  women  I  may  feel, 
And  mine  the  faithful  smile,  the  hands  that  heal ; 
But  what  in  them  is  passion  falls  from  me 
Only  as  dew  doth  in  benignity. 
Yet  once  more  will  I  try  thee,  to  make  clear 
If  yet  thy  wit  is  nimble;  and  appear 
As  a  young  goatherd  from  the  pasture  near. 

[Turning  before  she  goes. 

Hath    the    wave    rusted    thee,    or    damped    thy 
skill? 

Of  all  thy  tasks  the  fiercest  waits  thee  still, 
H 


114  ULYSSES 

Ere  I  restore  thee,  at  the  destined  time, 

To  armed  splendour  of  thy  manhood's  prime. 

\_Exit  ATHENE. 
ULYS.    \_Dreaming  of  past  labours^     Ah,  loose 

me  to  that  music  !     Cut  these  cords  ! 
Hark  !  breakers  thro'  the  gloom  !     Reef,  reef  the 
sail ! 

[He  wakes  and  gazes  about  him. 
Some  god  hath  cast  me  forth  upon  this  land ; 
And  O  !  what  land?     So  thick  is  the  sea- mist, 
All  is  phantasmal.     What  king  ruleth  here? 
What  folk  inhabit?  —  cruel  unto  strangers, 
Or  hospitable?    The  gods  have  lied  to  me 
When  they  foretold  I  should  see  Ithaca. 
This  is  some  swimming  and  Cimmerian  isle, 
With  melancholy  people  of  the  mist. 
Ah !  Ithaca,  I  shall  not  see  thee  more ! 

[He  sits  down  in  dejection. 


ULYSSES  115 

Enter  ATHENE   disguised   as  a   young  goat- 
herd with  a  cloak  and  a  staff. 

ULYS.  Sir,  I  pray  you  tell  me  what  land  is 
this? 

ATM.  First  tell  me,  sir,  of  yourself,  and  from 
what  country  you  are  come. 

ULYS.  [With  rapid  affable  mendacity.'}  My 
name  is  Neleus  and  in  Crete  was  I  born;  my 
father  Melampus,  and  my  mother  Arcite.  But 
I,  sir,  have  a  man's  blood  on  my  hands  and 
therefore  am  fugitive,  and  seek  refuge  here  if 
any  may  be  found. 

ATH.  [Aside  in  delight.'}  He  hath  his  tale 
on  the  instant ! 

ULYS.  But  now  tell  me  what  is  this  shore  on 
which  I  am  cast  up? 

ATH.    Hast  heard  men  speak  of  Ithaca? 


n6  ULYSSES 

ULYS.  \_Repressing  sudden  j'oy.~\     Ithaca  ! 
Somewhere  have  I  heard  the  name,  but  where? 
And  is  this  Ithaca? 

ATH.   Even  so. 

ULYS.    Is   it  an  island    or   part    of  the  main- 
land? 

ATH.   An  island  surely.     And  hast  thou  heard 
never  of  our  king?     He  is  far-famed. 

ULYS.   How  is  he  called? 

ATH.   Ulysses. 

ULYS.  Ulysses  !      Did  he  not  sail  with  other 
chiefs  against  Troy  city? 

ATH.   Even  so.     But  now  we  know  not  if  he 
be  alive  or  dead. 

ULYS.   I  fear  that  he  is  dead. 

ATH.    Hast  any  certain  news? 

ULYS.    None   certain,  but  I  much  fear  that  he 
is  drowned  in  the  salt  sea. 


ULYSSES  117 

ATM.  [Delightedly.]  Yet  might  his  wife  enter- 
tain thee  kindly. 

ULYS.  His  wife  —  [checking  himself  ~\.  Ah!  had 
he  a  wife? 

ATH.   Surely  —  her  name  Penelope. 

ULYS.  Penelope  !  and  it  seems  to  me  that  her 
name  too  I  have  heard. 

ATH.  O  !  well  said,  Ulysses.  Thou  art  never 
wanting. 

ULYS.  [Starting.'}    Stranger  ! 

ATH.  I  am  Athene,  and  have  taken  this  shape 
but  to  try  thy  wit. 

ULYS.  Goddess,  how  shall  men  know  thee? 
And  yet  while  thou  wast  speaking  I  was  aware 
of  a  tone  more  sweet  than  mortal;  but  would 
not  betray  thee. 

ATH.  O  excellent  Ulysses,  who  standest  there 
and  fearest  that  thou  art  dead !  I  have  more 


u8  ULYSSES 

joy  in  thee  than   before,  for   thy  cnift   is   in   no 
way  abated. 

ULYS.   But  ah  !  I  am  fooled  again  !     Goddess  ! 
Is  this  Ithaca  indeed  —  this  very  earth? 
ATH.   Behold  ! 

\_The  sea-mist  slowly  unrolls,  discovering  the 

land. 
ULYS.   Slowly  the  mist  fades  !    Ah  !  the  cypress 

tree 

I  was  so  proud  to  plant  as  a  boy !  and  there 
The  cave  forbidden  which  I  therefore  loved  ! 
Brighter,  more  bright !     The  crest  of  Neriton  ! 
The  rustling  glade  there  where  I  killed  the  boar. 
Now  all  the  land  gleams :    look  you  there  !    the 

ridge 

Where  the  young  laughing  babe  Telemachus 
First   clapped   his   hands    at    sight    of    the    sea : 
and  O! 


ULYSSES  119 

Yon  holy  winding  path  where  last  I  kissed 
Penelope,   who   toward    me    swayed    and    spoke 

not. 

I  came  there  down  the  slope  most  lingeringly, 
And  turned  by  the  myrtle  tree,  and   turned   and 

turned. 

Goddess,  I  cannot  see  for  the  great  tears. 
There !     there !    the    very    peak    to    which    she 

climbed 

Waving  a  sea-farewell  with  helpless  hands  ! 
O  verdure  to  the  sea-man  that's  come  home  ! 
O  light  upon  the  land  where  I  was  born  ! 

0  dear,  dear  Earth,  thou  warm  mother  of  me, 
Art  glad,  art  glad  in  thy  brown  bosom ;  here 

1  kiss  and  kiss  thee :  here  I  fling  me  down 
And  roll  and  clasp  and  cover  me  with  thee  ! 

[Starting  up 
Ah  !  'tis  a  dream  :  O  God,  it  is  a  lure  ! 


120  ULYSSES 

Incredible  that  ever  I  can  rest ! 

I  am   fooled   by   the   old   sea-magic :    my   home 

trembles  : 

An  apparition  of  the  glassy  deep, 
A  fading  island  that  we  come  to  never  ! 
Is  it  rooted,  rooted  fast  and  cannot  fly? 
I  shall  go  mad  if  I  am  fooled  !     Speak  !   speak  ! 
Is  this  the  earth,  the  earth  where  I  was  born? 
ATH.   Ulysses,  'tis  at  last,  'tis  Ithaca ! 
ULYS.   Ah !    [Sobs,   overcome  by   emotion,   then 

slowly\    I  have  been  but  a  little  while  away 

then, 

And  suffered  the  great  sea  as  in  a  dream. 
But  she,  Penelope?     She  lives,  I  know, 
And    she    holds    true :    but    peril    closes    round 

her  — 
What  peril? 

ATH.  Up,  Ulysses,  from  the  ground ! 


ULYSSES  121 

Art  broken  down  ?     Fury,  not  tears,  I  ask  ! 
Up,  up  !   thy  wife  by  suitors  is  beset 
Who  waste  and  strip  and  drink  away  thy  home : 
She  is  hard  driven  and  on  the  point  to  yield. 
ULVS.  Dogs  !     Dogs  ! 
ATH.  Wilt  thou  not  rush  upon  them 

straight 
And  slay  them?  smite,  and  on  the  instant? 

ULYS.  No : 

I'll  crouch  before  I  spring,  spy  ere  I  leap. 
ATH.  O  wise,  still  wise  !     Now  have  I  tried  thee 

sure, 
Rage   doth   not   make    thee   rash !     No  more   I 

doubt. 
Now    bow    thy    back !    and    cast    on    thee    that 

cloak. 

Thou  art  so  marred  with  the  sea  misery 
That  none  will  know  thee  :  lean  thee  on  this  staff, 


122  UL  YSSES 

And  as  a  beggar  knock  at  thy  own  door, 
And  weave  in  thy  own  halls  these  wooers'  doom. 

[  Going. 
ULYS.  Now  dost  thou  leave  me,  in  so  fierce  a 

pass? 
ATH.  I'd  see  thee  stand  alone;    'tis  sweet  to 

those 

In  heaven  at  seasons  to  withhold  their  aid. 
But  I  am  ever  with  thee,  unto  the  end. 
Strike  not,  Ulysses,  till  I  send  the  sign. 

ULYS.  What  sign  ? 

ATH.  A  lightning  flash :    till  then  forbear. 

ULYS.  [Assuming  his  disguise  and  recognizing 
the  hut  of  EumceusJ]  Ah  !  the  old  swine- 
hut  :  lives  Eumaeus  yet  ? 

[Exit  ATHENE. 

[He  walks  slowly  towards  the  hut.     EU&LEUS 
is    heard    within :    '  G-r-r  Antinous,  in 


ULYSSES  123 

Eurylochus,  g-r-r  Ctesippus.'  EUM^EUS 
comes  out  to  the  pent-house  in  front  of 
the  hut,  carrying  a  pointed  stick. 

EUM.  Away,  old  beggar !  Here  are  no  leav- 
ings for  you  ! 

ULYS.  Sir,  but  a  handful  of  husks  that  the 
swine  have  left. 

EUM.  Out !  These  are  Ulysses'  swine :  they 
leave  nothing. 

ULYS.  Sir,  I  fall  with  hunger. 

EUM.  And  so  perhaps  even  now  does  my  mas- 
ter. 

ULYS.  I  have  tidings  of  your  lord  Ulysses. 

EUM.  That's  an  old  tale  with  you  beggars  — 
you  have  all  seen  Ulysses,  and  then  you  are  well 
fed  by  his  queen  Penelope.  [He  begins  making 
a  mash  for  the  swine.~\  One  saw  him  in  Troy- 
land,  another  in  Crete,  another  saved  him  from 


124  ULYSSES 

drowning,  another  saw  him  drown  but  could  not 
save  him.  One  hath  a  lock  of  his  hair,  another 
the  string  of  his  sandal.  Dost  carry  anything  of 
his  about  thee? 

ULYS.  I  do. 

EUM.  And  what? 

ULYS.  His  hunger. 

EUM.  Away,  you  saucy  beggar,  or  I'll  loose  his 
dogs  on  you  :  yet  no.  His  wife  will  be  wroth  if 
any  are  turned  away  who  can  tell  of  Ulysses.  Is 
thy  lie  ready,  is  it  a  good  lie? 

ULYS.  Sir,  I  beseech  you,  food  ! 

EUM.  Come  in,  then,  and  earn  thy  supper.  I 
am  not  fooled  like  a  woman  :  fill  that  jar  with 
water,  and  pick  up  these  fallen  acorns.  [ULYSSES 
obeys."}  Where  hast  thou  seen  him  then  ?  There 
is  but  one  place  where  he  has  not  been  seen  — 

ULYS.  What  place  is  that? 


ULYSSES  125 

EUM.  In  hell :  I  recommend  hell  to  thee :  no 
beggar  hath  yet  bethought  him  of  hell. 

ULYS.  But  this  would  not  please  his  wife? 

EUM.  No,  but  'twould  set  her  mind  at  rest  con- 
cerning him.  Here's  a  piece  of  fat  chine  for 
thee. 

ULYS.  Humbly  I  thank  you. 

EUM.  His  swine  are  well  kept  still  — 

ULYS.  And  for  that  I  thank  you. 

EUM.  [Prodding  swine  outsideJ\  G-r-r-r  Anti- 
nous,  Ctesippus  ;  in  Eurymachus. 

ULYS.  Are  swine  so  called. 

EUM.  I  name  these  three  after  the  chief  suitors, 
and  when  rage  swells  to  bursting,  I  strike  them 
so :  a  poor  vengeance,  but  ready  at  all  hours. 
Ulysses  !  Ah !  year  after  year  have  I  been  faith- 
ful to  thee,  master,  and  of  each  of  thy  swine  can 
I  give  account ! 


126  ULYSSES 

ULYS.  But  he  being  far  off,  them  hast  no  need 
to  be  over-careful. 

EUM.  I  have  the  greater  care  because  of  the 
smaller  need. 

ULYS.  But  if  he  be  dead ! 

EUM.  I'll  not  believe  that  till  I  hear  it  from 
his  own  lips. 

ULYS.  But  this  Ulysses  —  so  I  have  heard  — 
was  but  a  careless  ruler,  and  little  beloved. 

EUM.  Old  man,  hast  a  mind  to  finish  thy  supper? 

ULYS.  I  have  indeed :  for  my  hunger  is  no 
whit  abated. 

EUM.  Then  let  no  ill  word  escape  thee  of 
Ulysses,  or  thou  wilt  go  hungry  away  ! 

ULYS.  And  his  queen,  Penelope? 

EUM.  She,  poor  lady,  is  so  driven  by  the  ras- 
cal wooers  that  this  very  night  is  she  to  choose 
one  of  them  for  husband. 


ULYSSES  127 

ULYS.  This  night? 

EUM.  Yea,  indeed,  for  this  night  the  moon  is 
at  the  full. 

ULYS.  Take  me  to  her,  even  now :  my  hunger 
is  gone  from  me. 

EUM.  Come,  then,  for  the  sky  pales  toward 
twilight !  \_A  sound  of  running  is  heard.~\ 

Hark! 

ULYS.  A  sound  of  running,  and  the  feet  run 
across  my  heart.  [Aside.~\ 

EUM.  Back!  'tis Telemachus, Ulysses'  son, rushing 
hither ;  and  see,  men  pursuing  him  to  take  his  life. 
Ah  !  that  spear  grazed  his  neck.  Master,  master  ! 

Enter  TELEMACHUS  breathless,  faint  with 
running. 

TELEM.  Eumaeus,  let  me  die  here  in  this  faith- 
ful spot !  I  am  pursued  by  men  set  on  by  the 


ia8  ULYSSES 

wooers ;  I  cannot  turn ;  from  each  bush  they 
start.  I'll  die  here  with  my  face  to  them :  but 
you  —  ah,  old  man  ! 

EUM.  An  old  beggar  with  the  old  tale  of  your 
father. 

{The  pursuers  appear:  two  or  three  hang 
back,  and  two  follow  to  the  door  of  the 
hut. 

TELEM.  Fly,  old  man. 
EUM.  They  are  upon  us. 

TELEM.  Father,  let  me  die  as   thy  son  should. 
ULYS.  \_A   beating  at  the  door.~\    Stand    back ! 
Within,   both   of  you  !     I  will   speak  with   them. 
TELEM.  Wilt  die  then? 

ULYS.  I  do  not  intend   so.     In !   I'll  have  my 
way. 

[ULYSSES  from  entrance  of  hut  approaches 
the  foremost  of  the  two  pursuers. 


ULYSSES  129 

ULYS.  Sir,  sir,  I  die  of  hunger  —  I  pray  you. 

FIRST  MAN.    Out  of  my  way,  old  dog  !   Pylas,  in  ! 

ULYS.  Thus  do  I  clasp  your  knees,  and  entreat. 

FIRST  MAN.  Loose  me,  rags ! 

[ULYSSES  tightens  his  grip. 

ULYS.  I  will  not  loose  you  till  you  give  me  food. 

FIRST  MAN.  Help,  Pylas,  help !  his  arm  holds 
like  iron !  Help,  help,  he  pulls  me  down  like 
a  hound  at  my  throat. 

[ULYSSES  hurls  him  down  and  springs  at  his 
throat. 

TELEM.  Take  not  his  life :  he  is  a  hired  thing. 
Who  set  you  on  to  murder  me? 

PYLAS.  [ULYSSES  suffering  him  to  rise.]  Eury- 
machus. 

TELEM.  Ah,  he  whose  arm  is  ever  around  my 
nerk. 

[ULYSSES  releases  PYLAS,  who  limps  away. 

i 


130  ULYSSES 

SECOND  MAN.  I'll   fly  a  land   that  breeds  such 

beggars  as  this. 
TELEM.    Thou   hast  saved  me  —  me,   who   am 

not  of  thy  blood. 
Thou  hast  o'er  tasked  thy  strength  and  tremblest : 

lean 
On  me  :  give  me  thy  hand. 

ULYS.   [Aside.]  I  fear  to  touch  it. 

TELEM.  Still  thou  art  trembling.     Come  ! 

[Again  holds  out  his  hand. 
ULYS.  Suffer  me,  sir, 

To  kiss  this  hand. 

[He    kisses    TELEMACHUS'    hand   and   bows 

over  it. 
TELEM.   Sorrow  not  thus,  old  man !      Lift  up 

thine  eyes. 
ULYS.   I  cannot  yet :   thine  arm  ! 

[TELEMACHUS  leads  him  a  step  or  so. 


ULYSSES  131 

There    hath    been    a   time 
When  I  had  led  thee  thus,  ay,  step  by  step. 
TELEM.  Thou  hast  not  looked  into  my  face  once. 
[ULYSSES  looks  slowly  up  into  his  face,  laying 
both   hands   on   his   shoulders :  he   looks 
long  on  him,  then  bows  his  head. 
ULYS.  Ah ! 

Thou  art  the  son  of  Ulysses,  art  thou  not? 
TELEM.   Ay,   of  Ulysses,   him   that    comes  not 

back. 

ULYS.   I  saw  thy  father  on  a  lone  sea-isle 
Once,  and  he  spoke  thy  name. 

TELEM.  O  what  said  he? 

ULYS.  Only  thy  name.      He  looked   o'er  the 

wide  sea, 
And  softly  said,  '  Little  Telemachus.' 

TELEM.    [Dashing  tears  from  his  eyes.]    Thou 
hast  seen  him  !  art  the  nearest  thing  to  him. 


132  ULYSSES 

ULYS.  And  I  had  a  sacred  word  from  him  to 

.thy  mother. 

TELEM.  Come  tell  it  to  her  now,  ere  'tis  too  late; 
Suitors  like  wolves  about  her  howl;  and  she 
Must  choose  this  very  night  of  the  full  moon. 
ULYS.    Haste,  haste  ! 
EUM.    [Coming  out.']      Old    man,   a    cup   of 

wine  for  thee, 

Thou'lt  have  no  further  need  of  any  lie. 
Thou    hast  saved  her  son,  and  thou  art  sure  of 

supper. 
ULYS.  [Drinking.]  Is  this  Ulysses'  wine? 

[EUMJEUS  nods. 
'Tis  a  good  wine. 

[He    sets    cup    down    suddenly,   pointing    to 
the   sky,    in    which    the  full  moon    has 
become  faintly  visible. 
The  moon,  the  moon  :  come.      \_He  starts  to  go. 


ULYSSES  133 

EUM.  How  didst  thou  guess 

That  way  leads  to  the  palace? 

ULYS.  I   came    here 

Once  as  a  boy,  long  since  :  my  father  brought  me. 
[EuM.tus  retires  again  within  the  hut. 
Young  sir,  a  moment :  and  this  way  —  apart. 
We  two  are  going  into  mighty  peril, 
And  the  end  who   knows?   now  lest  we  meet  no 

more, 
Wilt     thou     not     kiss     this     grey     head     once? 

may'st  thou 
Never  such  sorrow  know  as  I  have  known  ! 

[TELEMACHUS     bends     over     ULYSSES'     head 

and  kisses  it.     ULYSSES  is  shaken. 
From  here  thy  palace  roofs  can  we  descry : 
See'st  thou  that  upper  chamber  looking  south? 
There  wast  thou  born  upon  a  summer  night. 
TELEM.    But  thou  then? 


134  ULYSSES 

ULYS.  I  stood  by  the  door  in  fear. 

[He    throws    back    the    tattered    cloak    and 

raises  himself  to  his  height. 
Child,  I  begot  thee. 
TELEM.  Father,  art  come  home? 

\_He  falls  in  ULYSSES'  arms. 
ULYS.   Askest  thou  proof? 

TELEM.  I  feel  that  thou  art  he : 

I  know  it  in  every  vein  and  drop  of  blood. 
Thou  art  ragged? 

ULYS.  But  to  weave  these  wooers'  doom. 

TELEM.    Eumaeus,    hither !    my   father   is  come 
home. 

EUM.    [Appearing   at   door.~\    Hast   no    likelier 

tale  for  me  than  that? 
Call  me  not  from  the  pig-mash. 

TELEM.  Hither  .and  see. 

[EUM.<EUS  comes  down. 
Dost  thou  not  know  him? 


UL  YSSES  135 

EUM.    [Gazing  at  him.']     Sir,  I  know  you  not. 
ULYS.  You  that  are  human  know  me  not :  and 

yet 

If  Argus  my  old  hound  should  see  me  now, 
Though  he  were  dying  he  would  wag  his  tail. 
EUM.    [Confusedly.]     Argus,  old  Argus  ! 
ULYS.  And  for  further  proof, 

The  scar  made  by  the  boar  in  yonder  glade  ! 

[He  bares  his  knee. 
EUM.    [Embracing  his  kneesJ]    O  master,  O  my 

man  of  men  —  at  last ! 
ULYS.   Rise,  'tis  no  time  for  tears.      Ye'll  go 

with  me? 
EUM.   To  death. 

ULYS.  Yet  I  mistrust  ye. 

TELEM.  Father ! 

ULYS.  Not 

Your  love :  I  doubt  your  wisdom  and  your  craft. 


136  ULYSSES 

When  ye  shall  see  me  buffeted,  reviled, 
Ye  will  forget  I  am  a  beggar  man. 

EUM.   We  will  revile  thee  more  and  taunt  thee 

worse. 
ULYS.   Can  ye  be   very  patient?    for  I  know 

not 

As  yet  what  I  shall  do :  I  wait  the  sign 
From   her,   that  goddess  who   hath  brought  me 

hither. 

TELEM.  We  will  be  very  patient  till  the  end. 
ULYS.    Come  then :  but  I  will  enter  last,  alone. 
Remove  you  every  weapon  from  the  hall, 
But  leave   three   spears,  three   shields,  upon  the 

walls 
That   we   may   snatch   them   when   our  need   is 

come. 

Now  haste —  {They  start  to  go. 

Yet  stay ;  if  any  ask  of  you 


ULYSSES  137 

Why  ye  have  thus  removed  the  spears  and  shields 
Have  ye  bethought  you  of  your  answer? 
TELEM.  No. 

ULYS.  Then  say  ye   have  removed  them   lest 

the  smoke 
Should  tarnish  them  ! 

EUM.  Master,  I  know  thee  now. 

Thy  old  craft ! 

\_The  full  moon    at    this  point  shines  forth 

brightly. 

ULYS.  Lo,  the  moon  already  bright ! 

\_Exeunt. 

SCENE   II 

Interior  of  the  banqueting-hall  in  ULYSSES'  palace. 
The  walls  richly  decorated  and  encrusted  with 
coloured  patterns,  bosses  and  friezes  of  ani- 
mals, etc.  Two  columns  plated  with  bronze 


138  ULYSSES 

sustain  the  roof,  the  central  part  of  which  is 
raised  so  as  to  admit  the  light.  On  a  wall 
hang  the  three  spears  and  three  shields  as 
ordered  by  ULYSSES,  and  in  another  place  his 
bow  in  a  richly-decorated  case.  The  hall 
is  lighted  by  lamps  held  by  ATTENDANTS.  The 
main  entrance  from  without  is  through  a 
doorway  with  a  raised  threshold  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  stage  at  the  back :  this  door  stands 
open  to  the  vestibule  and  the  moonlight:  a 
staircase  on  the  left  leads  up  to  another  door 
opening  into  the  women's  apartments.  A 
dais  extends  along  the  back  of  the  hall:  on 
this  and  on  the  floor  to  right  and  left  are 
disposed  the  tables  and  couches  where  the 
SUITORS  are  discovered  revelling,  with  the 
faithless  HANDMAIDENS  interspersed  among  them 
and  drinking  from  their  cups,  and  ATTEND- 


ULYSSES  139 

ANTS  standing  by  and  serving.  TELEMACHUS 
sits  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  tables.  In  the 
centre  of  the  hall  is  an  open  space,  with  a 
fire  burning  on  the  hearth  in  the  midst,  and 
beside  it  the  chairs  of  PENELOPE  and  the 
Minstrel,  the  former  unoccupied.  PHEMIUS  the 
Minstrel  is  seated  in  his  chair  by  the  hearth, 
singing  — 

Great  is  he  who  fused  the  might 
Of  the  earth  and  sun  and  rain 
Into  draughts  of  purple  light, 

Draughts  that  fire  the  heart  and  brain : 
Let   us   praise    him   when   the   goblets    flash    in 

light 
And  the  rapture  of  the  revel  fills  the  brain. 

What  were  revel  without  wine  ? 
What  were  wine  without  a  song  ? 


14°  ULYSSES 

Let  us  hymn  the  gift  divine 

With  a  music  wild  and  strong, 
With    a    shouting    for    the   god    who    gave    the 

wine, 
And   a   guerdon   to   the    minstrel   for   his   song. 

Blest  is  he  who  strikes  the  lyre 
At  the  feast  where  princes  quaff: 

Higher  mounts  the  mirth  and  higher, 
Loud  and  louder  peals  the  laugh  — 

[PHEMIUS  breaks  off  suddenly,  gazing  on  the 
SUITORS    in    horror   while   a   dim    mist 
comes  down  on  the  hall  and  the   moon- 
light is  obscured. 
ANTIN.  What  ails  thee,  man? 
EURYM.  Why  dost  thou  stare  on  us? 

PHEM.     O    wretched    men !     What    doom    is 
coming  on  ye? 


UL  YSSES  141 

What  mist  is  this  that  overspreads  the  world? 
Shrouded  are  all  your  faces  in  black  night ! 

[They  laugh  together  softly  and  sweetly. 
See  how  the  feast  is  dabbled  o'er  with  blood, 
And   all   your   eyes   rain   tears,   and   though   ye 

laugh 
Sweetly  on  me,  ye  laugh  with  alien  lips  ! 

[Again  they  laugh  sweetly  upon  him. 
And  a  voice  of  wailing  arises  and  all  the  walls 
Drip   fast   with   blood,   yea,  and   with   blood   the 

roof  ! 

[They  laugh  again. 

And    the  porch   is  full   and   full   is   the  court  of 

ghosts 

And  spirits  hurrying  hell-ward  in  the  gloom, 
Yea,  and  the  light  hath  perished  out  of  heaven  ! 
Laugh  not  so  idly  on  me  with  your  lips, 
But  arise  and  flee  !  your  doom  is  at  the  doors. 


142  ULYSSES 

[PHEMIUS  hurries  out  of  the  hall.     The  mist 
clears  and  ULYSSES  is  seen   standing  on 
the    threshold   in    the    central    doorway 
unobserved  by  any. 
ANTIN.   Madness  is  come  upon  him ! 
EURYM.  O,  a  poet ! 

CTES.    He  hath   taken   from  me   all   desire   for 

food. 

And  there  !  is  that  blood  there  ?     Eurymachus ! 
Am  I  not  rosy  and  round  as  ever  I  was? 
EURYM.   You  are,  Ctesippus. 
CTES.  And  I  see  no  ghosts. 

ANTIN.    He    hath   drunk   o'ermuch :     hence   all 

this  mist  and  blood. 
EUM.   \To  TELEMACHUS.]     O  master,  see  you 

that  old  beggar  man? 

Say,  shall  I  put  him  from  the  door?     Out,   out ! 
[  With  exaggerated  roughness. 


ULYSSES  143 

ULYS.    [Coming  down  into  the  hall.]      I  crave 

a  word,  sir,  with  Ulysses'  son. 
Which  is  he? 

EUM.  There ! 

ULYS.     [Approaching  TELEMACHUS  humbly.] 

Suffer  me,  sir,  a  word  1 
I  bring  you  tidings  of  your  father. 

TELEM.     [  With  simulated  harshness.]      O  ! 
The  old  tale  ! 

ULYS.    [Cringingfy. ~\    Sir! 
TELEM.  Out  with  thee  ! 

EUM.  Out ! 

TELEM.  Or  stay  ! 

Thou  shall    have    leave    to   limp   from    guest   to 

guest 
And   eat   what   thou    canst    beg.       As    for    your 

tale, 
My  father  is  long  dead. 


144  UL  YSSES 

ULYS.  Then  first  from  you 

I  beg  a  crust  of  bread,  or  sip  of  wine. 
TELEM.   Here's  for  thee. 

\_Tosscs  him  bread. 

ULYS.  Humbly,  sir,  I  thank  you. 

[He  passes  from  guest  to  guest. 

A  SUITOR.   Here. 

[Pushes  wine-cup  to  him. 

CTES.   My    appetite    is    fled :    take    what    you 

will. 

EURYM.   Here  is  a  gristly  morsel  for  old  gums. 
MEL.    \_To  ANTINOUS,  as  ULYSSES   approaches.^ 
Antinous,   keep   the   old   man   far   from    me  ! 
He'll  soil  this  robe ;  and  hath  a  smell  of  swine. 
ULYS.  I  would  not  soil  you,  lady ;  but  you,  sir  — 
ANTIN.  You    louting    beggar,    I    have    nought 
for  you ! 

From  me  ! 

\_He  strikes  him  on  the  mouth. 


ULYSSES  145 

EURYM.      He  stood  thy  buffet  like  a  rock  ! 

ULYS.   O  my  deep  soul,  endure ! 

TELEM.    [Starting  up.~\  Antinous, 

I'll  have  no  beggar  struck  within  my  halls  ! 

ANTIN.  Oho  !   And  did  I  strike  one  of  thy  blood 
Or  of  thy  guests?     Thou  filthy  beggar,  off! 

[Strikes  him  again, 

ULYS.   Athene,  patience  ! 

EUM.  All  my  blood  boils  up. 

[Throws  log  savagely  on  fire. 

ULYS.    [Coming  near    to    ANTINOUS.]  O   noble 

sir,  of  all  who  feast  around, 
Tall  men   and  fair,  thou  art  the  fairest  far, 
And  splendid  in  thy  youth  and  in  thy  strength. 
But  I  am  old  and  many  have  I  seen 
So  fair,  so  strong,  fallen  into  misery, 
Princes  whom  in  their  pride  the  gods  laid  low. 
Remember  in  thy  strength  the  evil  days. 

K 


146  UL  YSSES 

ANTIN.    {Starting  up.~\   This  dismal  beggar  I'll 

endure  no  more, 

Who  gibbers  at  the  feast  of  evil  days. 
Away  with  him  or  I  will  hurl  him  forth. 

CTES.   A  sad  feast  this — the  minstrel  first  sees 

blood : 
And  now  this  beggar  croaks  to  us  of  age. 

CLYT.   Since    he    came    in  we  are  all    grown 

miserable. 
MEL.   Sirs,  drive  him  forth,  that  we  may  laugh 

again 

SUITORS.    [Rising  from  the    tables  ^\     Out   with 
the  old  crow  !  cast  him  out :  away  ! 
\_They  come  round  ULYSSES  and  hustle  him 

to  the  door. 
TELEM.    I  say  the  old  man  shall  not  be  thrust 

forth. 
\Aside  to  ULYSSES.]  Is  it  now,  father,  is  it  now? 


UL  YSSES  147 

EUM.  When,  when? 

SUITORS.  [Hustling  ULYSSES.]    Out  with  him  ! 
HANDMAIDS.  Spit  on  him  ! 

SUITORS.  Unloose  the  dogs  ! 

CTES.  [Interposing."]      A   word,    a    word !    thy 

mother  still  delays : 

Let  us  beguile  the  time ;  leave  him  to  me, 
And  we'll  wring  laughter  from  this  kill-joy  yet. 

[To  ULYSSES  with  mock  deference.] 
Give  me  your  hand,  old  man  ! 

[To  SUITORS.]  These  beggars  all 
Were  princes  once.     Now  hearken  !     Sir,  I  see 
Behind  these  rags  and  filth  what  man  thou  art. 
Tell  us  —  and  now  I  look  on  thee  I   mark 
A  something  noble  in  thy  air — thou  hadst 
A  palace  once,  and  riches,  hadst  thou  not? 
ULYS.   A  palace  and  great  riches  had  I  once. 

[General  laughter. 


148  UL  YSSES 

CTES.    [To  SUITORS.]    What  said   I  ?    Yet  in 

rags  the  great  are  known. 
Wast  thou  not  in  old  days  thyself  a  king? 
ULYS.   In  the  old  days  I  was  myself  a  king. 

\_All  laugh  heartily. 
CTES.    {To  SUITORS.]     Hush  ! 
\To  ULYSSES.]       Look  around;    even  such  a 

hall  hadst  thou. 
ULYS.    [Gazing  slowly  around.~\     Once  did  I 

feast  in  some  such  hall  as  this. 
CTES.   Not  by  thine  own  fault  (ah  !  I  know  it 

well) 

But  by  some  anger  of  the  gods  thou  art  fallen. 
ULYS.   The  gods,  the  gods  have  brought  me  to 

this  pass. 

ANTIN.    Impudent  liar! 

CTES.  And  thou  didst  leave  behind 

A  wife  most  beautiful,  a  queen  of  women  ! 


UL  YSSES  149 

TELEM.   How  long  will  he  endure? 

EUM.  O  for  a  blow! 

MEL.   He  is  grown  cautious,  he'll  not  speak  to 

that. 
CLYT.   His  wife  !    Some  addled  hag  that  tend- 

eth  swine ! 
MEL.   Was    woman    found    to    mate    her    with 

such  mud? 

TELEM.   His  spirit  is  dead  in  him. 
EUM.  Thou  art  broken  at  last ! 

CLYT.   He   speaks   not !      See,    the    old    fool's 

eyes  are  dim. 
MEL.    [  With  mock  caress.]     O  shall  I  kiss  thy 

tears  away,  my  love? 
CHLOR.   Thy  wife  is  old :   wilt   thou   have  me, 

fair  youth? 
CLYT.    O   wouldst    thou   take   me,  bridegroom, 

to  thy  halls  ! 


150  ULYSSES 

EURYM.    Cease,  cease  !      Ye  all  mistake.     He 

hath  come  here 
A  suitor  for  Penelope. 

ANTIN.    [Throwing  cup    at  him.']     Then   take 
This  gift  to  aid  thy  suit. 

A  SUITOR.    [Throwing  a  bowL~\     And  this. 
CTES.  [Throwing  a  scrap  from  the  feast.~\  And 

this. 
OTHERS.     [Casting    things    upon    him.']       And 

here :  and  here. 

CTES.  Now  up  and  urge  thy  suit ! 

TELEM.  [To  EUM^EUS.]     Why  wait  a  word  that 

never  comes  ?    The  swords  ! 
EUM.    Stay,  stay :    he  looks  on  us,  and  his  eye 

burns. 


ULYSSES  151 

Enter  PENELOPE  down  staircase  from  the 
upper  chambers;  she  walks  slowly  and 
sadly  to  her  chair  beside  the  hearth  in 
the  centre  of  the  room. 

SUITORS.  [Making  way  for  her  and  then  gath- 
ering to  right  and  left  of  her  in  the  central 
space. ,]  The  Queen,  the  Queen  ! 

ANTIN.  Now  be  the  bridegroom  chosen ! 

EURYM.     Lady,    this    is    the   night   when   thou 

shalt  choose. 
Grave  is  thy  mien :   here's  that  shall  make  thee 

smile. 
Bring  forth  this  wooer  lordliest  and  last. 

CTES.  These  rags  are  but  a  guise :  a  noble 
man  ! 

PEN.  [To  TELEMACHUS.]  Child,  knowest  thou 
this  old  man  whom  they  mock? 


152  ULYSSES 

TELEM.   Mother,  it  is  an  old  poor  beggar  man 

Who  says  that  he  brings  tidings  of  my  father. 

Wilt  thou  not  hear  him,  mother,  ere  thou  choose? 

EURYM.    Art  thou  still  eager,  lady,  for  new  lies? 

ANTIN.   Art  thou  not  weary  of  these   beggars' 

tales? 
PEN.   I  have  been  too  oft  deceived :    now  my 

still  heart 

I  bare  no  more  to  every  beggar's  eye : 
Sacred  shall  be  this  hunger  of  my  soul 
And  silent  till  the  end  — 

\To  TELEMACHUS,  who  makes  signs  to  her.] 

What  wouldst  thou  say? 
TELEM.    [  Taking  her  a£art.~]     Mother,  a  word ; 

but  a  word. 

ANTIN.    \_Interposing.~\     Stand  back,  young  sir ! 
There  shall  be  no  more  plots  between  you  two. 

\_Murmurs  of  assent. 


ULYSSES  153 

Nor  beggars  weave  another  web  —  of  lies. 

The  moon   is   full !     Now   shall   thou  choose  at 

once. 

TELEM.   Mother ! 
ANTIN.         An  end  of  tricks  ! 
SOME  SUITORS.  Thy  word,  thy  word ! 

OTHERS.    Now  answer ! 
OTHERS.  Now  no  more  delay ! 

ALL.  Choose,  choose ! 

\_They  all  crowd  about  PENELOPE    to    hear 
her   decision,   ULYSSES   in    the   meantime 
crouching  in  the  ashes  by  the  hearth. 
ULYS.   Goddess,  hast  thou  forsaken  me  at  last? 
TELEM.    {To  ULYSSES.]   A    moment,    and    too 

late! 

ULYS.  I  wait  the  sign  ! 

PEN.   Speak    any   then   who  will :    I'll    answer 
him. 


154  ULYSSES 

CTES.    I  claim  to  speak  the  first. 

EURYM.  By  right  of  age. 

CTES.   Lady,  I  cannot  speak  as  a  raw  boy, 
But  as  a  man  of  comfortable  years ; 
Though  in  my  youth  more  terrible  was  none 
To  foemen ;  and  I  like  not  to  remember 
The  blood  that  I  have  spilt.     Behold  me  now 
A  man  not  old,  but  mellow,  like  good  wine, 
Not  over-jealous,  yet  an  eager  husband. 
This  figure  something  of  Apollo  lacks, 
But  though  I  might  not  catch  the  eye  of  a  girl, 
Still  a  wise  woman  would  consider  well, 
Ponder  by  nights  ere  she  would  let  me  go. 
Yet  I  would  urge  less  what  Ctesippus  is 
Than  what  Ctesippus  has  the  power  to  give. 
\To  ATTENDANTS.]    Now   hold   up   to    the    moon 

that  glimmering  robe ; 
Turn  it  this  way  and  that ;  this  coffer  now, 


ULYSSES  155 

With  armlets  of  wrought  gold,  brooches  of  price, 
And   golden    bowls    embossed   with    beasts    and 

men ; 

These  draught-boards,  ivory  inlaid  with  silver, 
That  glistering  tire  and  these  enamelled  chains. 
Lo,  whatsoever  woman  can  desire 
I'll  give  thee  without  pause  and  without  stint, 
Wilt  thou  but  suffer  me  to  lead  thee  home. 

PEN.   Ctesippus,  not  the  glory  of  gems  or  gold 
Can  move  me :  hath  the  sea  a  pearl  so  rich 
As  dead  Ulysses  which  it  treasureth 
Far  down,  far  from  these  eyes?     Rather  would  I 
Possess  some  rag  of  him  drawn  up  perchance 
By  nets  of  seamen  hauling  'neath  the  moon 
Than  all  these  jewels  glistering  at  my  feet. 
How  couldst  thou  think  to  please  me  with  these 

toys, 
When  in  that  chamber  I  have  garnered  up 


156  UL  YSSES 

Garments  more  rich  to  me,  faded  and  dim, 
Old  robes  and  tarnished  armour  lovelier  far? 
Those   hadst   thou    seen,   thou   couldst   not   offer 

these. 
EUM.   \To   CTESIPPUS.]    Now   thou    hast    leave 

to  go  — 

\_Murmurs. 

Your  pardon,  princes. 
EURYM.    Lady,  I  bring  no  gauds  of  pearl   and 

gold, 

I  know  thou  art  not  this  way  to  be  lured. 
I  share  thy  grief  for  him  who  now  is  dead : 
Noble  was  he,  a  wise  man  and  a  strong. 
O  were  he  here,  I  first  would  clasp  his  hand. 
A  moment  till  my  voice  return  to  me. 

[He  bows  his  head  on  his  hands. 

But  she  who  sits  enthroned  may  not  prolong 
The  luxury  of  tears ;  nor  may  she  waste 


ULYSSES  157 

In  lasting  widowhood  a  people's  hopes, 
So  hard  is  height,  so  cruel  is  a  crown. 
Thou  art  a  queen :  a  moment  then  for  grief; 
Then  for  the  people  what  remains  of  life. 
I  offer  thee  the  comfort  of  high  cares, 
And  consolation  from  imperial  tasks : 
To  share  with  me  the  governance  of  a  land 
And  bring  thy  woman's  insight  to  the  state, 
The  touch  that's  gracious,  deft,  and  feminine. 

Sea-gazing  consort  of  a  hero  dead 
Reign  thou  with  me ;  and  find  in  rule  relief ! 
That  thou  no  longer  art  a  girl,  and  green, 
Troubles  me  not;  rather  I  prize  thee  more 
For  that  long  suffering  and  sleeplessness 
And  the  sweet  wisdom  of  thy  widowhood. 
Thou   hast    caught    splendour  from    the    sailless 

sea, 
And  mystery  from  many  stars  outwatched ; 


158  ULYSSES 

Rarer  art  thou  from  yearning  and  more  rich. 
Humbly  I  would  entreat  you  for  my  answer. 

PEN.   Sir,  could  I  list  to  any,  'twere  to  thee : 
Fair  were  thy  words,  and  such  as  women  love, 
And    thou    hast    found    my    brain,    but   not    my 

heart, 

Feigning  a  ruth  I  felt  thou  didst  not  feel. 
Ask  me  not  to  forget  in  public  good 
This  solitary,  dear,  and  piercing  loss. 
Rather  would  I  remember  one  dead  man, 
Wasting  the  years  away,  and  yet  remember, 
Than  rule  a  living  kingdom  by  thy  side. 
Alas  !   I  am  a  woman  utterly ! 

ANTIN.     Enough    of    jewels,    and    enough    of 

thrones ! 
Would   these   men    lure    thee?      I   by  thee    am 

lured. 
For  thee,  O  woman,  thee  alone,  I  thirst. 


ULYSSES  159 

Time,    that    doth    mar    us    all,   and    dims,    and 

damps, 

Ashens  the  hair  and  scribbles  round  the  eye, 
Weareth  not  thee,  thou  miracle,  away, 
Ever  in  beauty  waxing  without  wane. 
No  more  I'll  toss  upon  a  burning  bed, 
Leap  out  at  midnight  on  a  smouldering  floor, 
Pacing,  pacing  away  the  aching  night. 
Thou,  thou  didst   light   this   fire,  and   thou   shall 

quench  it. 
TELEM.    [Aside  to  ULYSSES.]     Dost  thou  hear, 

father? 

ULYS.  Goddess,  now  the  sign  ! 

ANTIN.   Or,  if  thou  will  not,  I'll  compel  thee. 

[Murmurs. 

O! 

I  care  not  for  your  murmurs :    I  risk  all ! 
Come  now  away  !   or  on  the  instant  I 


160  ULYSSES 

Will    catch    thee    in    these    arms    up    from    the 

ground 
And  fling  thee  o'er  my  shoulder,   and  run  with 

thee 

As  from  a  house  aflame. 
TELEM.  I'll  spill  thy  blood. 

ULYS.  Unleash  me,  goddess,  let  me  go. 
EUM.  Up,  up ! 

ANTIN.   For  what    dost    thou    still  wait?     For 

whom,  for  whom? 
Thy    husband?     he    is    dead,    drowned    in    the 

ooze: 

The  fish  are  at  him  now  in  the  deep  slime. 
PEN.   O! 

TELEM.   \To  ULYSSES.]    Art  thou  tame? 
ULYS.  I  bite  these 

bloody  lips. 
ANTIN.   Or  if  he  be  not  dead,  what  is  he  now  ? 


UL  YSSES  161 

A     shambling    shadow,     a    wrecked,    mumbling 

ghost, 

A  man  no  more :   no  better  than  yon  beggar 
That  huddles  to  the  fire :   so  bowed,  so  worn, 
So  ragged  and  ruined,  and  so  filthy  and  fallen  ! 
Look  on  that  beggar !    There  thy  husband  see ! 

PEN.   Splendid  Antinous,  I  tell  thee  this; 
That  if  my  husband  on  this  moment  came 
In  by  that  door  even  as  yon  beggar  man, 
So  bowed,  so  worn,  so  ragged  and  so  fallen, 
Him  would  I  rather  catch  unto  this  heart 
And  hold  his  holy  ruins  in  my  arms, 
Than  touch  thee  in  thy  glory  and  thy  strength. 

ULYS.   [Starting  «/.]    O  nobly  spoken ! 

[  Uproar. 
Suffer  an  old  man ! 

ANTIN.   Now  answer. 

EURYM.  Lady ! 

t 


1 62  ULYSSES 

CTES.  Bring  those  robes 

again ! 
PEN.   [Bewildered.]      Sirs,    but    one    moment, 

will  you  give  me  leave? 
Then  do  I  swear  by  all  the  gods  to  choose. 
A  womanish  last  request  —  a  silly  favour  ! 
ANTIN.  O ! 
EURYM.    [Fawning  on  her."]     Lady,  I  will  not 

refuse  thee. 

PEN.  Tis 

That  I  may  satisfy  me  if  this  beggar 
Perhaps  doth  bring  me  tidings  of  Ulysses. 
ANTIN.   This  but  to  put  us  by ! 
EURYM.   [Still  /awns.']  Suffer  her,  sirs  ? 

[The  SUITORS  retire  sullenly  up.  PENELOPE 
comes  back  to  her  seat  at  the  fire  beside 
which  ULYSSES  crouches.  As  she  ap- 
proaches him  he  trembles. 


ULYSSES  163 

PEN.   Old  man,  wilt  thou  deceive  me  yet  again? 
Be  not  afraid :  there's  nought  in  me  to  fear. 

ULYS.   I'll  not  deceive  thee,  lady :  nearer  draw 
And  motion  all  away  ! 

[PENELOPE  signs  to  all  to  move  away 

Canst  thou  endure 
The  shaft  of  sudden  joy,  yet  make  no  cry? 

PEN.  Though  I  shall  fall  I'll  not  cry  out :  say,  say. 

ULYS.  Ulysses    lives  —  thou   art   gone   white  — 

be  still! 

Grip  fast  thy  chair  and  look  upon  the  ground  !  — 
And  he  is  very  near  to  thee  even  now. 

PEN.   Where,  where  ? 

ULYS.  This  night  is  he  in  Ithaca ; 

Perchance  even  now  is  rushing  to  his  halls  ; 
Might  at  this  moment  come  in  by  that  door. 

PEN.  How  shall  I  trust  thy  tale?  If  thou  sayest  true 
Thou  ne'er  shalt  beg  again. 


164  ULYSSES 

ULYS.  I  come  from  him. 

PEN.   What  is  thy  name  ? 

ULYS.  Idomeneus  from  Crete. 

He  charged  me  with  these  tidings — and  this  ring. 

PEN.  This  would  he   not  have  given  :  O  this 

was  pulled 
From  his  dead  finger  ! 

ULYS.  Lady,  if  I  lie, — 

If  on  this  night  Ulysses  comes  not  home, — 
Then  give  me  to  thy  thralls  to  slay  me  here. 

PEN.   Ah  !  they  will  kill  him. 

ULYS.  Fear  not;  he  is  wise. 

Only  do  thou  each  moment  still  delay 
Thy  answer. 

PEN.  Yet  what  plea  ? 

ULYS.  Propose  to  them 

Some  simple  trial  whereby  thou  mayst  choose. 

PEN.   What,  what  ? 


UL  YSSES  165 

ULVS.  The  bow  :   is  that  Ulysses1  bow  ? 

PEN.    Cherished    and    daily   suppled   by    these 

hands. 
ULYS.  Say  thou  wilt  choose  whoe'er  shall  bend 

his  bow. 

But  still  to  interpose  some  brief  delay, 
Call  you  some  woman  forth  to  bathe  my  feet. 

PEN.  Melantho,  bring  clear  water  hither  and  bathe 
This  old  man's  feet. 

MEL.  I  ?   I'll  not  touch  his  feet, 

For  I  can  touch  the  lips  of  better  men. 

ULYS.   Lady,  some  woman  that  hath  seen  much 

sorrow 
As  I  have. 

PEN.  Eurycleia,  bathe  his  feet. 

[EURYCLEIA  brings  water  in  a  brazen  vessel 
to  ULYSSES;  as  he  lifts  his  robe  she 
sees  the  scar  and  drops  the  basin. 


166  ULYSSES 

EUR.  The  scar  there. 

ULYS.  Wouldst  thou  slay  me? 

hold  thy  peace. 

PEN.  What  ails  thee,  Eurycleia? 

EUR.  O  my  mistress  ! 

These  old  hands  tremble  even  at  such  a  task. 

ANTIN.   [Advancing.]     Now,    lady,  now !    This 

is  delay  enough  ! 

Hast  thou  at  last  heard  tidings  of  thy  lord? 
Doth  he  come  home  to-night? 

PEN.  Alas,  alas  ! 

He  is  drowned,  and  from  his  finger,  lo  !  this  ring. 

ANTIN.  Thou'rt  satisfied  at  last? 

SUITORS.  Now  answer : 

choose. 

PEN.    No  one  of  you  I  like  above  the  rest, 
Yet  have  I  sworn  to  choose  :   so  I  will  put 
This  matter  to  a  simple  trial. 


ULYSSES  167 

SUITORS.  What  ? 

PEN.  See   where    behind    you    hangs    Ulysses' 

bow. 

He  that  can  bend  his  bow  and  loose  a  shaft, 
Him  will  I  take  as  husband  from  you  all. 

[They  rush  to  take  it. 
SUITORS.    The  bow ! 
PEN.  [Staying  them.']  My  son  alone  shall  reach 

it  down, 

After  such  time  shall  be  the  first  to  touch  it. 
[PENELOPE  retires  down  to  watch  the  trial. 
TELEMACHUS  brings  down  the  bow  and 
a  sheaf  of  arrows.  CTESIPPUS  advances, 
and  after  much  groaning  and  panting 
fails  to  string  it. 

CTES.  Easily  in  the  morning  could  I  bend  it, 
But  I  have  supped ! 

[EURYMACHUS  essays  to  string  it  and  fails. 


1 68  ULYSSES 

EURYM.        Lady,  wilt  choose  a  husband 
For  brutish  force?  what  play  hath  the  mind  here? 
[ANTINOUS  fails  to  string  the  bow. 
ANTIN.   If  I    can    bend  it  not,   no    man   can 

bend  it. 
PEN.  [To  OTHERS.]  And  will  you  not  essay? 

or  you  ? 

OTHERS.  Not  we. 

ANOTHER.  Where  craft  and  strength  have  failed, 

what  use  for  us  ? 

PEN.  I  will  wed  no  man  till  he  bend  that  bow. 

[Angry  murmurs  among  the  SUITORS. 

[Lightning  flashes ;  ULYSSES  recognises  by  the 

sign  that  the  moment  for  action  has  come. 

ULYS.  [Rising."]    Lady,    and    princes,    but    to 

make  you  sport, 
I  will  essay  to  bend  Ulysses'  bow: 

[Loud  laughter. 


ULYSSES  169 

To  make  you  sport  —  for  I  have  supped  full  well. 
ANTIN.  Impudent   rags !      Thou    shall    not  vie 

with  us. 
TELEM.  The    beggar    shall   make   trial :    come, 

old  man  ! 

CTES.  The  old  man  !   excellent  1 
ALL.  [Laughing  loudly.']         The   beggar   man ! 
EURVM.  Come  forth,  thou  wooer  lordliest  and 

last. 
ANTIN.    Here   is  a  broad  mark  for  thy  shaft, 

old  man. 

PEN.  Ah,  mock  him  not ! 
ULYS.  Sirs,  but  to  make  you  sport. 

[He  totters    towards  the  bow. 
Athene,  strength  !    O  if  my  might  should  fail  me  ! 
[//<?    takes    the    bow,    and    after    simulated 
faltering,  strings  it  amid  the  amazed  si- 
lence of  the  SUITORS.     He  springs  to  his 


170  ULYSSES 

height,  and  appears  in  his  own  likeness, 
his   rags  falling  from  him,  and  disclos- 
ing him  armed  and  in  the  full  glory  of 
manhood. 
Dogs,  do  ye  know  me  now? 

PEN.  \_Rushing  towards  him.']  Ulysses  ! 
ULYS.  Back ! 

SUITORS.  \_Amazedly  amid  themselves.']  Ulysses  ! 
is  it  he  ?  Is  it  he  —  Ulysses  ? 

[ULYSSES  shoots,  killing  ANTINOUS,  who  falls. 
ULYS.  Who  is  for  me?    The  swords  there  and 
the  shields  ! 

TELEMACHUS  and  EUALEUS  snatch  down  the 
weapons,  and  arming  ULYSSES  and  them- 
selves, stand  by  him. 

EURYM.  \_Coming  over  fawningly  from  among 
the  SUITORS  towards  ULYSSES.]  Hero  restored, 
I'll  stand  by  thee  for  one  ! 


ULYSSES  171 

ULYS.    [Striding     out     and     spearing     him.~\ 

Would'st  fawn  on  me  ?  go  fawn  among  the  dead. 

[EURVMACHUS  falls.     The  SUITORS,  finding  no 

weapons  on  the  walls,  crowd  waveringly 

together. 

CTES.    [Encouraging   them.~\      We    are    ten   to 
one :  crush,  crush  them  by  sheer  weight 

[The  SUITORS  make  a  headlong  rush  upon 
ULYSSES  and  his  companions,  but  are 
stayed  in  mid  rush  by  thunder,  lightning, 
and  supernatural  darkness,  followed  by 
the  apparition  of  ATHENE  standing  by 
ULYSSES. 

SUITORS.  The  gods  fight  for  him.    Fly !  we  are 
undone. 

[ATHENE  and  ULYSSES  with  EU&LEUS  and 
TELEMACHUS  fall  on  them,  and  they  are 
driven  in  fierce  brief  medley,  visible  by 


172  ULYSSES 

flashes  of  lightning,  and  with  noise  of 
groans  and  falls,  out  headlong  through 
the  door.  Sounds  of  slaughter  con- 
tinue to  be  heard  from  the  court  with- 
out. The  darkness  lifts,  discovering 
ULYSSES  standing  on  the  threshold  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  hall,  ATHENE  still 
at  his  side.  He  turns,  laying  by  sword 
and  shield,  while  PENELOPE  gazes  in 
passionate  uncertainty  toward  him  from 
the  corner  of  the  hall. 
ULYS.  [Solemnly.]  First  unto  Zeus  and  to 

Athene  praise  ! 

Go  all  of  you  apart !  even  thou,  my  son, 
And  leave  me  with  Penelope  alone. 

ATH.  Thou    art    come    home,  Ulysses !     Now 

farewell ! 
For  violated  laws  are  here  avenged, 


ULYSSES  173 

And   I,  who   brought   thee  through   those  bitter 

years, 

Those  bitter  years  which  make  this  moment  sweet, 
I,  even,  in  this  moment  have  no  share. 

[ATHENE  disappears. 

[ULYSSES  and  PENELOPE  slowly  approach  each 
other  across  the  hall,  with  rapt  gaze, 
hesitatingly.  Then  she  is  folded  to  his 
breast  in  silence,  while  the  voice  of  the 
Minstrel  is  heard  without,  repeating  the 
words  of  the  song  from  the  first  Act, 

And  she  shall  fall  upon  his  breast 
With  never  a  spoken  word, 

and  the  fire  on  the  hearth,  which  has 
burnt  low  throughout  this  scene,  leaps 
up  into  sudden  brightness. 

CURTAIN 


NOTE   BY  THE  AUTHOR 

THE  methods  and  limitations  of  epic  and 
drama  differ  completely  :  and  in  attempting  to 
write  a  play  on  the  story  and  character  of  Ulysses, 
as  they  are  known  to  all  the  world  from  the 
Odyssey  of  Homer,  the  first  thing  needful  is  to 
sacrifice  five-sixths  at  least  of  the  episodes  which 
give  that  poem  its  enchantment.  Some  writers 
who  have  made  the  attempt  have  even  judged  it 
best  to  omit  the  entire  tale  of  the  hero's  wan- 
derings, and  to  treat  only  those  of  his  actions 
which  take  place  after  his  return  to  Ithaca. 
Both  M.  Ponsard,  in  a  lyrical  drama  written  to 
Gounod's  music,  and  Mr.  Robert  Bridges,  in  his 
poetical  play,  'The  Return  of  Ulysses,'  have  fol- 
lowed this  plan. 

»75 


176  ULYSSES 

As  the  reader  has  perceived,  I  have  gone 
farther  back  in  the  story,  and  taken  in  two  of 
Ulysses'  earlier  trials,  the  sojourn  with  Calypso 
and  the  visit  to  Hades,  which  seemed  to  me  to 
afford  matter  for  telling  dramatic  presentment 
and  dramatic  contrast.  And  I  have  tried  to  weave 
these  adventures,  together  with  the  return  to 
Ithaca  and  the  final  discomfiture  of  the  suitors, 
into  the  fabric  of  a  properly-knit  play  ;  with 
what  measure  of  success  it  must  be  for  readers 
and  playgoers  to  decide. 

For  the  rest,  the  scholar  will  have  found  in 
the  foregoing  scenes  some  things  strictly  accord- 
ing to  Homer,  and  some  loosely  so :  but  others 
not  according  to  him  at  all,  as  for  instance  the 
stay  with  Calypso  made  to  precede  the  descent 
among  the  dead  instead  of  following  it;  Calypso 
herself  endowed  with  some  of  the  attributes  of 


ULYSSES  177 

Circe ;  Hermes,  the  chartered  escort  of  the  dead, 
given  as  a  guide  to  Ulysses  through  Hades; 
Hades  itself  conceived  on  lines  which  are  Vir- 
gilian  rather  than  Homeric  ;  the  action  at  the 
swineherd's  hut,  and  that  in  the  palace  at 
Ithaca  afterwards,  re-arranged,  re-imagined,  and 
above  all  unsparingly  accelerated  and  cut  down. 
In  the  author's  mind  all  these  liberties  were  an 
essential  part  of  his  dramatic  scheme  ;  nor  can  the 
need  for  similar  liberties  be  well  escaped  by  any 
practical  playwright  who  chooses  to  work  upon 
materials  supplied  either  by  history  or  by  epic. 
As  to  the  material  presentment  of  the  play, 
my  warmest  thanks  are  due  to  Mr.  Tree  for  an 
enthusiasm  and  a  generosity  which  have  admitted 
no  obstacle  in  the  attempt  to  realise  on  the 
stage  the  best  conjectural  picture  of  the  Homeric 
world  which  could  be  devised.  The  attempt  is 

M 


1 78  ULYSSES 

new,  and  the  result  is  a  spectacle  richer,  more 
barbaric,  many-coloured,  and  full  of  fantasy  than 
could  have  been  obtained  by  adopting  the  con- 
ventional classical  costumes  and  familiar  building 
styles  of  later  Greece.  The  architecture  and  its 
decoration,  designed  by  Mr.  W.  R.  Lethaby, 
have  been  based  on  recent  discoveries  of  the 
Mycenaean  age.  For  the  dresses  (since  the  Myce- 
nsean  costume,  so  far  as  it  is  known  to  us,  would 
be  ill  suited  to  the  stage)  Mr.  Percy  Anderson 
has  gone  back  to  the  very  earliest  Greek  sculp- 
ture, and  to  vases  of  the  sixth  and  seventh  cen- 
turies B.C.  Both  these  gentlemen,  as  well  as  the 
author  and  manager  and  their  valued  helper 
Mr.  Lionel  Hart,  have  been  greatly  aided  in 
their  work  by  the  zeal  and  learning  of  Dr.  A.  S. 
Murray,  Mr.  Sidney  Colvin,  and  other  friendly 
authorities  of  the  British  Museum.  c  T> 

o.  if  • 


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